


Frenemy, Can You Love Me?

by RavenAurelieChoiseau



Category: Constantine (TV), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Alpha Derek, Alpha Scott, Alternate Universe - Magic, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bathroom Sex, Bisexual Isaac Lahey, Bisexual Jackson Whittemore, Bisexual Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Blood and Violence, Blow Jobs, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Coach being Coach, Collars, Desk Sex, Dildos, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Feelings Realization, Fluff and Smut, Foreskin Play, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Humor, I should be sleeping but I am writing instead, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Lust Potion/Spell, M/M, Mating Bond, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Orgy, Past Abuse, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Peter Hale is a Little Shit, Phone Sex, Rutting, Scisaac - Freeform, Sex Toys, Sexual Humor, Sexual Roleplay, Sleeping Together, Smut, Spanking, Spit As Lube, Stiles Stilinski in Heat, Surprises, Teacher-Student Relationship, Top Derek, Top Derek Hale/Bottom Stiles Stilinski, True Alpha Scott McCall, Uncut Derek, Underwear Kink, Unexpected Visitors, Voodoo, Wall Sex, facial cumshot, heat-induced madness, uncut Stiles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-05-16 12:51:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 45,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14811716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenAurelieChoiseau/pseuds/RavenAurelieChoiseau
Summary: Stiles doesn't need a babysitter. But with his father away, he gets stuck sleeping over at Derek's house. He hates Derek. But also seriously wants Derek.This has become a story within a story, as other characters make their appearance and an actual plot (perhaps) start to come through. Not just smut, it's more like a written soap opera. The aim remains Sterek-centric.If you are here for John Constantine he makes a cameo starting in Chapter 15.Enjoy!





	1. I Can Hear You

**Author's Note:**

> So, this fic started as one thing and is quickly becoming another. Like episodes in the series, if you will. Each chapter, some new drama or love or...why not? Smut.  
> We'll see how far down the rabbit hole you are willing to follow me. Thank you for the amazing support so far, it's way more than I ever expected as I came over from another ship.  
> Love you guys!

Darkness has set in. The crescent moon’s light is the only illumination in the loft and it dapples the floor, nearly reaching the bed where Derek sleeps. The figure under the grey sheet is shadowed, and Stiles cocks his eye in an effort to catch a glimpse of the Alpha. The half-light is not helping, all he can make out is the curve of Derek’s spine and how his legs are bent at an odd angle.  
“Ugh, those legs.” He’s pushing away thoughts of what is _between_ those legs.  
  
"Not now, Stiles....not now." The boy shifts, an annoying hardness forming in his sweatpants as he struggles to get comfortable on Hale’s couch. He’s shivering from the cold, the only heat in his body accumulating in his crotch.  
“Great,” he says to no one. His dick is now completely hard.  
One of his arms sneaks under the cover, pushing down on the bulge straining against his boxers. He wedges it between his legs, and with his other hand wraps the blanket snugly around him, as tight as it can get.  
    
Stiles sighs, audibly, and turns his head to admire the slumbering werewolf once more. His mind wanders to the muscular arms hidden underneath the thin veil of silk sheathing the Alpha’s taut body. It’s not lost on him, how attracted he’s been to this brooding man. He hates it. He hates that he can’t help himself and spends most days fantasizing about  _him. Derek Hale._ To think, Stiles started out despising him. Well, he kinda still does.   
There’s that twitch again.  
“Maybe if I just…” His arm moves a couple inches. Down and up, just enough to…

“Don’t you dare jerk off on my couch, Stiles!”  
The boy, startled, freezes. He shuts his eyes and pretends to snore. Derek guffaws from the corner.  
  
“Really, Stiles? You think I can’t tell from your breathing and heartbeat that you are fully awake _, and afraid_.”  
Stiles exhales, defeated. “Sorry. I wasn’t gonna…” he lies.  
  
Derek sits up, the bed linen falling down to his waist in a whisper of silk. Even in the dim light, Stiles can discern the strong pecs and sculpted abs that pop from underneath his close-fitting cotton shirt. He chokes a little on his spit.  
“You weren’t going to what? I can smell the boner on you.”  
  
Derek runs a hand through his raven hair, rubbing the back of his neck when he reaches his nape. He adores messing with Stiles. His scrawny, irritating crush. Can the sheriff’s son make out his smirk?  
“Derek, you know it’s just a physical reaction. You see, during the day our bodies produce noradrenaline, a hormone that hinders erections. But at night–"  
Derek growls enough to make the air shake, and Stiles flinches. A hand pulls aside the sheet, uncovering the bare spot next to the werewolf.  
  
“Stiles, in bed.”  
The younger blinks twice. “Wh-What?”  
The Alpha leans forward, his face illuminated by the moonlight. His eyes glow blood red.  
“I said… GET IN MY BED.”  
“Holy god.” Stiles is terrified, yet extremely turned on. Is this really happening?! What?!  
  
He scrambles, dropping the blanket on the floor as he scampers the short distance, almost tripping on his own feet.  
He stands at the empty side, fixated on the vacancy next to Derek. Stiles doesn’t even bother trying to conceal his hard-on and he notices the wolf’s gaze darting there.  
“Well, what are you waiting for? Do I have to drag you in here? Also, pants and shirt off.”  
Stiles shifts from right to left.  
“It’s just..” he rakes his fingers through his bangs. “It’s just…I don’t get it.”  
  
Derek sighs, almost in annoyance. “What, Stiles? What don’t you get? Do you wanna hold hands, discuss our feelings, or do you want to fuck? CLOTHES OFF AND GET IN BED.”

Derek’s groin is revealed as the silk is drawn back further. A very large penis is outlined in purple boxers.  
Stiles’ attention is drawn there, and he changes expression from shocked to confused to pensive. Derek catches him licking his lips.  
“Oh my god,” he mouths. Admiration turns to snark. “Purple, really?” He says sarcastically.  
“Stilinski, I’m about this close to killing you.” There is no space between his fingertips.  
  
Stiles swallows hard. He can’t stop ogling Derek’s bulge.  
“ What?” Derek grins, moss eyes sparkling devilishly.  
“Is this what you’ve been dreaming about, Stiles? Where your thoughts go during the day when you touch yourself? When you cum calling my name?”  
  
His voice has dropped an octave. It makes the boy’s golden skin prickle.  
“Yes,” Stiles nods. His adam apple bobs.   
  
The wolf’s eyebrows arch, and he reaches for Stiles’ hand. “Then get in here,” he whispers, the voice more gentle.  
The mattress dips as Stiles lies down alongside Derek. He removes his pants and shirt and leaves them in a crumpled heap on the floor.  
He turns on his side, propping his head up with his hand, a miserable attempt at looking cool. The boy grins, as he does when he’s extremely nervous.  
“Hey, howya doin?” he manages.   
  
Derek smiles, finding it endearing.  
The boy’s heart is racing, it’s thumping in the wolf’s ear like a bass drum.  
Stilinski has never been with a man before. Let alone a werewolf. And yet, here he is, in Derek Hale’s bed, sporting what is now a raging erection.  
  
“Derek, I don’t know –“  
The Alpha has a habit of cutting him off when he speaks. His voice can get so irritating.  
Derek isn’t being insensitive. He’s very aware of Stiles’ insecurities. Honestly, though, the boy needs to grow a pair. Holding an academic review of his emotions won’t get anyone anywhere. Not at this hour, at any rate. Especially when he knows how badly Stiles needs this. How badly he needs it. He’s been pining for the younger for a while now, hoping to be his first.   
  
“Shut up.” Derek leans over his face. “Kiss me, Stiles. Shut the fuck up and kiss me.”   
Stiles has learned not to disobey. Normally disobedience ends up with Derek getting violent. (He recalls the time his face got smashed into his steering wheel). But nothing about this makes him feel unsafe. He knows he can trust the wolf.  
  
The Alpha’s pouty lips hang a hair’s breadth from Stiles’ mouth, he teases his canines with his tongue, mouth agape.  
The boy’s chestnut eyes are blown, and his lover’s emerald ones pierce the veil of intimacy.  The Alpha’s voice grows soft, almost reassuring. He inhales, the arousal permeating the surrounding air.  
“I know you've never done this before. I’m not going to hurt you, Stiles. I promise.”  
What a tender change in the older man. Unexpected. 

Stiles gathers courage when Derek cups his cheek with what is a very smooth palm. The boy’s fingers drum the air until he decides that it’s okay to touch the one who is going to be his lover. He cautiously places it on Derek’s strong shoulder and squeezes.  
The elder waits for him to angle in.  
“Oh god,” Stiles repeats in his mind as he grazes the wolf’s mouth.  
  
His supple lips cover the Alpha’s, and they fuse like two celestial beings. It feels other-worldly.  
Tongues meet, timidly at first, then more urgently as it deepens and they sample each other’s tastes.  
Stiles breathes in through his nose, inebriated by the scent of earth and musk emanating from his lover’s skin.  
Derek lets a moan escape him, and Stiles smiles against his lips. “I’m doing that,” he thinks proudly.  
Hale hollows out his mouth, shifting to get on top of Stiles as their teeth clash.  
  
The younger squeals when their hard-ons meet, two swollen members pressing needily into their bellies.  
Stiles’ quivering arms wrap around the wolf’s wide back, and bolder in intent, he teases Derek’s inner lip, drawing across it until he offers him his tongue to lick.  
Derek obliges, licking a long strip from the tip of Stiles’ muscle until its end, then dips from there to nip on his neck.  
  
His heat draws circles along the carotid, Stiles’ velvety skin teasing his senses.  
“I could rip your beautiful throat out, Stiles, I want you so fucking much.”  
The boy groans “ugh-fuck…” against him.

If this is Derek’s idea of dirty talk, it’s pretty fucking hot. As long as he actually doesn’t rip his throat out, that is.  
Derek insists on the spot right above the boy’s clavicle. The color changes beneath, crimson spreading.   
  
Stiles bucks in response, one hand navigating the groove in the center of Derek’s torso until he reaches his perfect ass. He doesn’t ask permission. He hooks his thumb into his lover’s underwear and nudges them down.  
“That’s my little Stiles,” Derek breathes. “Or rather, not so little.” He ruts against his partner’s huge cock, getting a gurgle in response from the trembling boy beneath.  
Derek discards his own shirt with a toss and his nails are soon scratching pink lines up the younger's sun-kissed chest.  
“You are so pretty, baby,” he whispers. “So pretty, and all MINE.” The darkness hides the boy’s blush. Derek has begun scenting him.   
  
Stiles rides Derek’s boxers down his legs with his toe and lifts his own hips to aid the wolf in removing his. Once clothes have been strewn about the bed, Derek’s weight falls back on him, now both of them completely naked.  
  
The wolf’s heat has warmed the younger’s cool skin, and he’s stopped shivering. Stiles’ fingers walk down Derek’s side, playing his ribs, until they reach his dick. Derek closes his eyes a moment when they wrap around his base.  
“There you go, angel."  
_Angel?!_  
  
Stiles can’t believe he’s touching Derek’s cock. It’s…perfect. He tugs up, the foreskin partially covering the glistening tip as he thumbs the slit. He knows just when to apply pressure.  
“Fuck, Stiles…”  
The younger giggles. “I’m kind of an expert on this part. Lotsa practice.”  
Derek shakes his head. “You’re a dork, Stiles.”  
He grunts, digging his nails into the space between Stiles’ shoulder blades.  
The younger boy hisses, their limbs interlace, and Derek’s grip tightens on Stiles’ cock in what little space rests between them.   
Free hands pull skin, scratching and licking at as much scalding, exposed flesh they can reach with their craving mouths. The two writhe on top of each other, giving off a light hue from the perspiration starting to dew on their backs and chests.

The younger boy finds a rhythm, twisting and stroking his lover’s thick member, applying just the right amount of compression at the top as they devour each other’s moist cavities.  It’s all neon and blinking lights behind their eyelids.

“Ohhh fucckk” …Derek utters. He stays Stile’s hand with a growl. “Baby, you’re gonna make me cum. I want to do something first.”  
_Did Derek Hale just call me baby?_   Stiles’ eyes open wide.  
  
The wolf’s scarlet gaze pleads Stiles to lie back. He crawls on all fours, following Stiles’ treasure trail with his kisses, not once losing eye contact. His ruddy lips close around the tip of the boy’s dick, and the wolf swirls around the shaft until he reaches his balls.  
“Ughhh” Stiles stutters. “Der, ugh..”  
Derek pulls up a little on his foreskin, plunging his heat between the skin and the head. “Mmm so good,” the wolf grumbles.  
“For all that is holy…” the younger melts, sinking into the mattress below.  
Derek pushes down, increasing the suction, purposely loosening until he’s taken all of him in, unhooking his jaw.  
The Alpha works his lover’s cock, adding pressure and taking it away, until the sheriff’s son is so close he’s praying for release with a rosary of expletives.   
Derek strokes close to the cock head, sure to retract the skin with his fingertips. He’s close, he can feel it on the boy.

“Jesus, Der. Oh god oh god…”  
 “That’s it, angel, that’s it. Come for me.”  
The wolf growls louder as the first twinge shakes the member, and Stiles comes undone.  
“Oh Jesus oh…I’m cumming…”  
A shrill moan escapes him. His fingers fist into Derek's dark locks as his cock is milking release under his lover’s pumping.  
Derek’s tongue is soon glazed with his cum, pale face dirtied by his semen.  
The panting lover watches as the Alpha swallows his spunk, cleaning his lips and collecting what he can with his fingers.   
  
“Holy everything, “ Stiles barely makes out, breathing ragged. Derek rests his chin on his lover’s pubes.  
“Fuck Der, fuck.” The wolf is beaming.  
“Stiles,” Derek beseeches. “Tell me what you want, Stiles. I don’t want to make you do anything you aren’t ready for.”  
Stiles reaches out, brushing a speck of cum off the wolf’s cheek. _Shit that’s hot._  
The younger man knows what Derek is talking about. He really wants it. He’s scared, but he really wants to. He needs to do this with his Alpha. _I_  
’m not a werewolf, but he is my Alpha.   
  
Stiles nods. “I want you, Derek. So, so bad. Fuck me. Please. Be my first.”  
“Don’t have to tell me twice, baby. I promise, I’ll be gentle. And thank you for trusting me.” His voice is soothing and Stiles relaxes. The wolf's touch is a balm.   
One hand on each knee, Derek spreads his love's legs apart. He drips saliva (and some of Stiles’ cum), onto his puckered hole. Stiles holds his legs up, breathing increasing as he looks up at the ceiling.  
"Do you want me to get the lube?"  
The brunette insists "No, I wanna try without first. I like the...grit."  
"Okay." The wolf's fingers search for his opening.  
  
“Whoo…” he exhales.  
Derek nudges Stiles.  
“Baby…hey….if you don’t want to we can wait.” Derek kisses his inner thigh lightly, resting his cheek against his knee.  
Stiles shakes his head. “No, Der. No. I’m okay. I um…actually play a lot down there. I think it won’t be so bad.”  
“Okay, Stiles. I’ll take it slow, okay?”  
Stiles grins and gives him a thumbs up.  
  
“I’ll put a couple fingers in, we’ll see how that goes. You tell me if it hurts.”  
The younger nods. “Yeah, I’ve had a huge dildo in there earlier, I think we’re golden.” Derek chuckles. So like Stiles.  
He licks his fingers and positions them at his hole. They slide in easily.  
“Well, I guess you have been playing around down there.”   
One eyebrow arches as he adds a third digit and scissors.  
Stiles smiles weakly. “Der, please just put it in. I want you. I’ll be fine. Please.” His voice breaks from lust.  
  
The werewolf reaches his chin, kissing Stiles on the mouth. “Okay angel. Okay. Here goes.”  
One hand is splayed next to Stiles’ shoulder, the other inserts his cock inside the younger man. He circles first, then inch by inch it disappears inside him until he’s bottomed out.  
“Oh Der, oh fuck…feels so good…”  
Stiles’ muscle tightens around his engorged dick, and Derek snarls.  
“Stiles, oh fuck…baby.”

Derek latches onto Stiles’ shoulder with his teeth, thrusting in even further with a whispered "fuck."  
“Move, Der. Please. I'm fine.”  
He pumps into the boy, once, twice, three times, unhurried until he finds a rhythm. Stiles hugs his dick tightly. It’s a fire in there, hotter than anything the wolf could have expected.  
"Stiles, you feel so good. So fucking good. Let me hear you scream my name, baby."

He increases the power and the frequency of his thrusts, resulting in Stiles making porn noises. The boy's hands knead into his lover's tattoo and lower back, guiding him.   
“Derek, FUCK,” he bellows an “ugh” for every time the werewolf impales him.

Using his hips for leverage, Derek’s nails cling to Stiles’ narrow waist. The room fills with the sound of groans and slapping skin. The wolf bites lightly into his neck as he continues his movements. He divides his attention between Stiles' mouth and finding new places to give him hickeys.  
Stiles can’t bear it, his teeth suck on his lip. Derek’s marble ass rises and falls with every penetration.

"Der, fuck me harder, please. Please. I’m so close."  
 Indeed, the boy’s cock is flat against his belly, raw and ready to bleed cum again.

Derek’s tensing, he’s close, too. He pulls up, twisting his hip, hitting Stiles’ prostate. The younger squeals, and the wolf is lost.  
One last push, almost awkwardly, and Hale disintegrates on top of him.  
  
Derek howls, the hot liquid coating Stiles' walls as the boy’s own member twinges, spilling a necklace of white pearly release all over his stomach.  
“Ugh Derek…I can’t…”  
Derek falls upon his lover's mouth, seeking refuge against his breathless torso.  
When he does pull out, he lays down next to Stiles, their flushed, sweaty bodies pressed together. Derek is panting, his magnificent cock still half-hard on his thigh.

Stiles, the back of his hand resting on his forehead, is grinning. Derek leans over and kisses him.  
“His dimples are gonna kill me,” he admits. “Hey, how are you? Was your first time okay? I wasn’t too rough, was I?”  
  
His index finger is tracing a pattern on Stiles’ breast.  
The boy snorts. “Jesus Der, that was…superlative. You were perfect. It was perfect. My first time with the hottest Alpha ever. Wow.”  
He turns on his side, facing the wolf. "Um, was I okay?"  
The elder nods. "You were, to use your words, superlative."  
Now they are both glowing.   
“Derek, when did you?”  
“When did I what?”

Stiles’ head bobs. “Well, you know…when did you realize you liked me.”  
Derek’s brow furrows. “Who said I like you? I find you extremely annoying, Stiles.”  
The sheriff’s son smiles to himself. There’s Derek putting up his wall again.  
  
“Uh-huh. Okay. Right. Exactly like me. I can’t stand you, either.” Sarcasm is his forte.   
  
There’s a mischievous gaze in Hale's green eyes. “Fine. You have a pure soul, Stiles. That’s rare. I don’t have to watch my back when I’m around you, okay? And that’s refreshing. You're loyal and sweet. And your hot as fuck. I get a boner every time you’re near me. And that’s what’s most aggravating about you. The more I got to know you, the more I couldn't resist you.”  
  
Derek just grins. It's the most honest he's been in a long time and it's devastatingly charming. Stiles leans in, allowing himself to kiss him chastely, tenderly.

“Is that why you insisted on me staying here while my Dad’s away? Claiming with Isaac staying at Scott’s, that there wouldn’t be enough room?”

The wolf smiles slyly. “Maybe. Plus I knew you wouldn’t last sleeping on that couch. It’s because I’m so irresistible.”  
  
Stiles nods, big chocolate eyes radiating happiness.  
“You’re right, you are," he smirks. "So…can we do this again?”  
  
Derek pulls on the sheet. “Count on it. Shut up and let me sleep and I’ll make you cum so hard in the morning you’ll never want to leave my apartment. But this is all the pillow talk you’re getting out of me right now. Roll over. No way in hell I’m gonna be little spoon, Stilinski.”  
  
Stiles snuggles in, the length of his body firmly pressed into Derek’s. The Alpha fixes the sheet all the way up, knowing Stiles gets cold. He envelopes his lover in a protective embrace.  
“Good night, angel.”  
Stiles is the one beaming now.  
“Good night, Der.”  


	2. My Dirty (BIG) Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles can't keep his secret for long. Scott and Danny find out he's sleeping with Derek Hale. Coach is concerned for Stiles.  
> I'm awful at summaries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playing with timelines and such. Keeping characters in that I like.

The locker room is bustling. Most of the guys already have their gear on, but Stiles is still dressed in his school clothes: a t-shirt and checkered shirt, his favorite jeans.  
This is also what he was wearing yesterday. He forgot to bring a change of clothes to the loft.

The sweatpants he had actually remembered to pack for the night remained somewhere next to Derek’s bed, crumpled and soiled with semen.  
He certainly didn’t have use for them after the “events” that transpired left him deliciously nude next to a very hot-blooded werewolf.  
"Leave them here, and your underwear, too," Derek had requested. "I want your scent near me."  
  
Stiles’ knee bounces nervously as he sits in front of his locker. He’s watching Danny pull on his jersey over ridiculously chiseled abs.  
_I need to start working out more._  
His body is in full pain management mode. Stiles' nether region throbs terribly and he wriggles to get more comfortable. From the corner of his eye, on alert for Scott, he scans the entrance to the room.   
  
Stiles has managed to avoid his best friends all day. He missed morning classes because he was still frolicking in Derek Hale’s bed, so that made circumventing easier. Derek called him in. Helps to be charming with a deep telephone voice.  
  
Yup. He is definitely not a virgin anymore. The wolf saw to that. Not once, or twice, but three times in the past twelve hours. Stiles has to admit, his werewolf has stamina. His. He still has to get used to that.   
The brunette is not sure how he’s going to tell Scott and the others he and Derek are… what are he and Derek? Shit.  
Okay, he files that paranoid thought away for an anxiety attack he’ll schedule in a few hours.   
  
Danny slides next to him on the bench and ties his left shoe.   
“Stiles, are you sick? Why aren’t you changing?”  
Dark, exotic eyes, registering concern, question Stiles’. He sizes up the nervous boy who’s been twitching beside him.   
“Wait. You had this outfit on yesterday.”  
  
Stiles rolls his chestnut eyes. “Really, Danny? THIS is what you notice?!”  
Danny’s mouth slowly forms an “O.”   
“Holy shit. There’s a hickey sticking out from under your shirt. And you winced when you sat down.” He pauses for effect. “YOU HAD SEX!”  
  
Stiles pulls on his collar, aware that one of his many hickeys is indeed showing. He tugs up the material to his chin.  
“Jesus, Danny, why don’t you go make a PA announcement about it,” he mumbles from under the cotton.   
The boy is grinning.   
“Wow. So I’m right? Congrats. Who is it? Is it Scott? It has to be. You're sleeping at his house while your Dad's away. If it's not Scott, it has to be someone else who's huge, you look wrecked.”  
  
Stiles guffaws. "Slow down there, Sherlock. No, it’s not SCOTT. Scott’s not even gay. And what do you mean I look wrecked?! And how do you know Scott is huge?!”   
  
Danny vellicates, like it’s obvious how he’d know.  
“I'm gay, Stiles. I have a large-dick-dar. Anyway, I remember what it was like for me after my first time. I bottom, too. Well, I switch. Not important right now. I know wrecked when I see it.  
But that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s a bad thing.” He winks. “And are you sure Scott’s not gay? Sometimes I catch him looking at me…”  
  
He’s tying the other shoe now as he continues looking in Stiles’ direction.   
“No, Daniel, it’s not Scott. And once more, Scott is not gay. What, do you have a crush on him or something?”  
Danny huffs. “Shut up.”  
  
Stiles smirks, about to say something sarcastic, when his friend cuts him off.   
“Fine, McCall isn’t gay. Sure as hell wasn’t me who deflowered you. Who is it? Oh dear god please tell me it wasn’t Peter Hale.”  
  
The sheriff’s son places a hand on Danny’s knee and they both stare at it once he's realized he's done it. Stiles pulls it away swiftly when Coach screams.   
“STILINSKI!”   
Coach Bobby Finstock. Irate, arguably alcoholic, possibly insane.  
The whistle he always wears at his neck sways as he saunters over. His dark hair stands on end, giving him the look of a mad man.   
Stiles fakes a cough, covering his mouth as he does so. “Yeah, Coach. Right here, Coach.”  
He raises his other hand.  
  
The teacher approaches the two boys and does a double take.   
“What’s wrong with you, Stilinski? What’s with the geisha hand?”  
The boy opens his mouth to speak, but as usual Coach doesn’t let him finish.  
“You look like crap. Oddly relaxed compared to your usual antsy self, but like crap.”  
  
Danny bites into his lip, lifting his eyebrows in amusement.   
“Coach, um…not feeling so good. Didn’t sleep much, either. Think I’m gonna sit out practice.”  
  
Finstock’s not convinced. “What’s wrong with you? Is it contagious? If it’s contagious, Stilinski, stay the hell away. We’ve got a tournament this weekend and I can’t afford…”  
  
Stiles drops his shoulders, sitting against the locker door. “No, Coach. It’s not contagious.”  
Coach takes two steps back and points his pen at Danny.  
“Mahealani, I’d encourage you to sit farther away.”  
Danny chuckles, patting Stiles on the shoulder.  
“Coach, it’s fine. Stiles isn’t contagious. He’s just got some…mobility issues. A little rest and he’ll be fine.  Right, Stiles?”  
The brunette nods emphatically. “Yes. A little…rest. Yes.”  
  
Bobby cocks an eyebrow. “Okay. I believe you. Scott’s already on the field so get your butts out there. Stilinski, you can sit on the bleachers and hold my clipboard. I’m putting you in charge of keeping Greenberg away from me.”  
“I didn’t even see Scott change, Coach,” he blubbers. "He's outside?"  
The teacher shakes his head. “I worry about you, Stiles. Profoundly. Are you sure you’re okay?”   
He doesn’t wait for an answer. Like many of his questions, it's rhetorical. As he walks back to his office, Coach looks back and sighs.   
  
Danny elbows his friend.   
“So, who is it? Is he cute? Was it good? Don’t leave me hanging like this.”

Stiles is considering all the consequences of this revelation, but knows it’s useless to defy Danny. He’ll just keep pestering him until he caves.   
“Swear you won’t tell anyone.”  
His teammate stands, his crosse over his shoulder. “You know I won’t. Now spill it.” He extends a hand, helping Stiles to get up.   
The sheriff’s son grimaces.  
“Jesus, Stiles, how d'you get around today?”  
Stiles struggles to breathe. “Very slowly. Honestly it only started hurting a few hours ago.”  
  
Danny nods. “Yeah, it does that. How many times did you do it?”  
The brunette lifts three fingers.   
Danny whispers into him as they walk out to the field. “THREE? Your first night?”  
Stiles smiles. “Yeah. When I go out, I go out big.”  
Danny smirks. "Apparently."

Stiles shuffles his feet. "I thought I'd be okay. I mean I've had enormous dildos up there. I mean…gigantic."  
His teammate makes a face somewhere between shocked and disgusted. "Jesus, Stiles, how many dildos do you own?"   
He shrugs. "I sized up."  
"Well, trust me. A dildo is one thing. A monster schlong ramming you into the mattress, another."  
Stiles smiles slyly. “Yeah. I’ve discovered that. I mean it was fine the first two times. We didn't even use lube. Just spit and ...cum. I think he did me in with the third. I got greedy."

They've made it outside.  
"Well. The good thing is, it gets easier now."  
Stiles gets nervous when he sees Scott talking to Coach. He won't be able to hide this for long. Especially since Derek scented him this morning. ALL OVER.   
  
“So, before I have to get out there and start sprinting. Who was it?”  Danny crosses his arms in impatience.  
Stiles mouths it, pointing to his ear. He knows any of the werewolves might hear.   
  
DEREK HALE. He puts a finger to his lips.   
Danny understands. He mouths it back.  
“OH MY GOD. DEREK FUCKING HALE?”  
Stilinski nods.   
“You lucky bastard. He’s gorgeous.”  
Danny figures it's okay to talk as long as he doesn't say the name.   
  
“No argument there.”  
“Was it good?”  
Stiles beams. “AMAZING.”  
“Mh-hm." The boy contemplates. "What are we talking? 8 inches?”  
Stiles lets his mouth hang open.  "Jesus, Danny, I didn’t pull out a tape measure.”  
Stilinksi leans in. “But yeah. At least.”  
  
His teammate is smirking. "You've suddenly become incredibly attractive to me, Stiles."  
  
Scott looks over, very confused. He heard the last phrase and something about 8 inches? Coach was rambling on about this or that and distracted him.  
Bobby looks at Scott, who's looking at Danny. He blows his whistle in Scott’s face.    
“MAHEALANI, get your ass on the field!”

"Shoot." Danny pokes Stiles’ chest. “I want detes later. I’m calling you when I get home. Better yet, come over. Nine o'clock. We can study together." Danny winks.  
“Okay…” Stiles is bewildered.

He runs off in the direction of the Coach and Stiles yells to his back, "You said that once already and left me high and dry. Don’t be a tease, Danny."  

His teammate laughs as he jogs past Coach. Scott looks to Finstock for an explanation but the elder shrugs. 

"Stilinski's acting weird. Wait. Let me rephrase that. Weirder than usual." He cracks his gum. "He and Danny were all buddy buddy in the locker room. Anyway, none of my business.  
If I tried to figure you all out, McCall, I'd drink even more than I already do." 

Scott's concern grows as his brow furrows. "Um, okay Coach."

Finstock blows the whistle again. He loves that thing.  
"Everybody on the field... except for you, Greenberg. You're useless."

Scott gazes over at Stiles whom he realizes only now can barely walk. He rushes over to him, dropping his stick onto the ground. 

"Shit," Stiles is panicked. 

"Oh my God, Stiles. What happened? Did you and Danny sleep together? Did he do this to you with his huge dick?"   
His best friend is at a loss. "How do you all know how big the other's penis is?!" 

Scott lifts Stiles by his armpits and that's when he smells it. He turns Stiles to face him.  
The Alpha's golden face fades ashen.   
"Oh my God. You smell like...Derek Hale and cum. You slept with Derek?!"

Here we go. Stiles suddenly finds his feet interesting. He nods, eyes darting from the grass to Scott's critical frown.   
"Numerous times. He pretty much broke me."  
"I thought you were staying at Danny's?" Scott’s voice goes up an octave. He’s getting upset.  
  
"I told _you_ that, told Danny and my Dad I was staying with you and Isaac. Ended up going to Derek's. He asked me to stay, offered with a lame excuse. I was hoping what happened...would have. But I wasn't sure. At the end, it did."  
"Numerous times," the Alpha reiterates.   
Stiles nods.   
"Are you mad? I know you don't trust him but I really, really like him. I think he's proved himself enough to us. Sure, he's a surly sourwolf, but he's...my surly sourwolf."  
  
Scott is conflicted, but only because he feels protective. Stiles is a brother. Derek, not.  
"I can't tell you who to love, Stiles," the wolf sighs.  
Stiles' eyes widen.   
"I can smell it on you. You're in love with him." He's almost despondent in his tone. "I just don't want him to hurt you. If you're okay with...getting broken because it's your thing, I can't stop you.  
Just be careful. And if he ever hurts you, I will have to kill him."   
  
Stiles is about to thank Scott when Coach has a fit.   
"McCALL! Are you still captain? Do you want to be?! I’m not aware that makes you exempt from running wind sprints. GET YOUR ASS ON THE FIELD!"  
  
Scott leans in and hugs Stiles tightly. "Ugh, Im going to have to get used to that smell on you."  
Stiles grins.   
"Talk after practice, okay?"   
Stiles agrees, squeezing his bestie's shoulder. It doesn't give.   
"Jesus I really need to start working out more."

 Scott chuckles and hustles back, only having Finstock stop him. "What's up with Stiles? He okay?"  
The captain nods. "He'll be fine, Coach."  
He grabs him by the forearms, looking serious for once.  
“McCall, tell me what's going on. Don't make me threaten Danny to find out." 

Scott bites his lip, avoiding looking in his friend's direction.  
"Look, he...Coach, it's really private. He had sex for the first time last night. But he's okay. Don't make a big deal out of this, Coach. I got him."   
  
Bobby glances to Stiles who is now sat on the bleachers, fiddling with the clipboard.   
“If you say so, McCall.” 

-

The team is divided up, half practicing shots, the others doing running drills. Finstock can’t shake his apprehension for his student. He decides against better judgment to talk to the boy.

"Stilinski.” He plops down next to him.  

“Yeah Coach?” Stiles says, startled.

“Scott told me...listen, under duress Scott told me you had...sexual relations last night for the first time."  
The sheriff's son would like to die. Right now.  _OH MY GOD:_  
  
"I know it's not any of my business, but I wanted to see if you're okay. If you need anything. If you want to talk to an adult..." 

Stiles is wondering what fresh hell he has found himself in. He deals with it as he knows best, sarcasm.  
"Oh, is Mr. Yukimura here?" He looks around with a smirk.  
"Cut the sass, Stilinski. I know I scream all the time but I do care for you guys. You look…hurt. I'm concerned that the other person might have harmed you. It was consensual, wasn't it?" 

 _Why is this happening?_  
  
Scott can hear the conversation and instantly regrets divulging the secret. Stiles knows he's listening and whispers under his breath, "I hate you so much right now."   
  
Well, what's done is done. "Yes Coach. It was consensual. Very much so. I just like it...”  
Stiles ahems. “Should we be talking about this? I don't feel comfortable."   
  
Coach is not picking up the clues, AT ALL. "She's a lucky lady, Stilinski. You're a nice kid. Though I have to tell you the idea of you near a vagina, that might potentially get impregnated, will haunt me every night now." 

"Coach, are you drunk?"   
Bobby pats Stiles on the back. "Maybe a little, Stiles. Maybe a little."  
Scott can barely contain his laughter from the pitch. 

"Coach, I'm gay. Didn't you notice? I think I'd probably NOT have this pain if I were straight." 

Finstock looks over at Stiles, then at Danny. Realization washes over his face. Danny feels watched and turns to Stiles, waving. 

"Not helping, Daniel. Not helping." Stiles muses.

"Oh...so it was you _and Danny_. That explains the locker room."   
To hell with it. "Yes Coach. Danny and I had sex last night." 

"And he...did this." He points at them in turn. "Well. Good for you, Stilinski. And good for Danny. He's a nice boy. Smart, polite, and attractive. If you were my son, I'd approve."  
He pats Stiles' knee and lets it linger there. This must be a thing now. 

“Um…Coach?” The brunette lifts a finger, eyes fixated on the large hand hugging his patella.

"Let me tell you, Stiles. Even if you were straight, this kind of pain isn't mutually exclusive to sexual orientation. There are infinite ways to pleasure a man. Just so you know. Never limit yourself."

Stiles is still staring at Finstock's hand, mouth gaping. Scott is doubled over from laughter.   
  
"Coach, um…maybe a convo about pleasuring men isn't appropriate when you've got your hand on my knee, during practice."

Coach’s lack of ability to note the obvious is uncanny.  
"It’s fine Stilinski. I used to be a sex-ed teacher. Now don't ruin this paternal moment for me. As I was saying, there are infinite ways..."

“Coach…”

Finstock looks forward as if in a daze.  "Nipple clamps..."

“Coach?” Stiles is now shifting uncomfortably.

"Ball gags."

_Oh holy God._

"What do you know about butt plugs?"

Stiles leaps from the bench. "Well, Coach, on that note! Think I saw Greenberg wave me over. Great talk. Let's do this again sometime." 

_Or not. Ever._

Stiles clambers over to Greenberg, who is benched. As usual.   
Finstock shakes his head and recommences shouting.   
Stiles mutters, "Scott, I know you've been listening. You are SO DEAD."

The Alpha giggles from far away. 

"Hey Greenberg. Pretend to talk to me."   
The young man almost flinches. "Stiles? What?! What are you doing? You never talk to me."

Stilinski sighs. "I said PRETEND, Greenberg. Good job, though."   
He pats the top of his shoulder.   
“Jesus,” he thinks, “Greenberg IS useless.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy this as much I did writing it.


	3. Make Yourself At Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles is ditching Derek to study, unaware that it might not be the best idea given the circumstances.

Stiles arrives at Danny’s door, hesitant to ring the bell.  It’s not entirely clear to him why his teammate has invited him over. Not without being suspicious about it, anyway. Danny wanted to know about the previous night, this is true, so Stiles figures it’s just to gossip. Well, that and they also have actual lab work to do.   
He rings once.  
As he waits, he shakes his head. The conversation he had with Coach earlier replays in his mind.   
“Unbelievable. That bought me another year on the couch,” he admits to himself.  
  
Scott wanted to speak with Stiles after practice, but Coach asked him to stop by his office, making them miss each other. He figures Scott will call him when he can. That way Stilinski can give him a piece of his mind about revealing his secret.  
  
The brunette waits for an answer after having pushed the buzzer a second time, lightly bobbing from left to right in impatience.   
Out of nowhere, his phone vibrates. He removes it from his pocket, thinking it’s Scott, but instead discovers it’s his…boyfriend?   
“Hey Stiles, where are you? You ok? Are you sleeping here again tonight because… I miss you. The bed is cold.”  
Derek sits in the dark, slouched lazily on the sofa. He’s twirling a pen in his fingers, trying to ignore the erection in his pants.   
  
Stiles is beaming. He’s not used to this softness from Derek, like  _at all_. And so soon after their encounter.   
Derek’s voice is low and sounds as smooth as aged whiskey. Ugh. Stiles is totally in love.   
“Hey there beautiful.”He wonders if this is too much, but oh well. All in. Derek blushes on the other end of the line.   
  
Stiles balances the phone with his cheek and shoulder as he fishes for a piece of gum in his pocket.  
“Yup, def. coming over later. Wouldn’t miss it for anything. Have to study now, have a project due. Text you but I think it’ll be late, around 11, by the time I’m free? That okay?”  
  
Derek replies as Danny opens the door. “Okay. You know you  _can_ study here. I think I know a thing or two about biology.”  
Stiles is floored. Danny stands at the door wearing nothing but a tiny towel. He’s dripping wet and there is a clear outline of his penis against the flimsy cotton.  
“Stiles, are you there?” Derek’s ears have perked.  
  
The brunette shakes himself as if coming out a trance. “What? Oh yeah. Can’t Der. Group project.”  
Derek’s eyebrow arches. Something’s funny.  
“No problem, Stiles. Where are you, home? Pick you up later when you’re ready?”  
  
“Hey Stiles, come in.” Danny steps into the light, his naturally tanned body glistening from the moisture. Stiles’ jaw drops. Rivulets of water flow down his sculpted chest. Oh, Danny, this was low.  
“Holy mother…” Stiles lets slip.   
Derek picks up on the tone. He shoots up from his position.   
“Stiles, where are you?!” One fist closes around the pen, breaking it in half. Ink spills onto his fingers. “Dammit!”  
  
The wolf's boyfriend panics, almost dropping the phone as he juggles it with two palms. “Shit!”  
It bounces in his hands until he grips it again. Danny smirks.   
“Der- Der- I gotta go. I’m sorry. Call you later, okay? Bye.”   
  
Stiles is panting. Okay, he’ll have to deal with that tonight, too. He’s too distracted at the moment to think about how angry Derek might be at him for ending the call like that. In fact, Derek’s trying back already, but Stiles turns the cell off completely.   
“Everything okay?” Danny inquires, one hand perched on the doorframe.  
  
The sheriff’s son advances, standing at the threshold, silent. The two men inspect each other.   
Stiles’ cheeks blush a deep pink. It’s not like he hasn’t seen Danny showered and wet. They do so after every practice and game. However, it’s beyond Stiles’ comprehension why this time it’s different. Something stirs in his pants unexpectedly and he looks down at his crotch.   
“Are you going to stand there all night?” Danny murmurs smugly.   
  
The sheriff’s son steps inside, slowly because he’s still a bit sore.  
“Hi Danny.” Stiles looks past his friend’s invitingly bare shoulder into a darkened house.  
“Um, you home alone?”  
“Yup.”  
Stiles gulps. “Okay, cool.” The hardness in his trousers is now poking into his zipper.   
  
Danny turns the lock and steps in front of Stiles, an inch from his face. His breath smells like peppermint. “Come on, let’s go up to my room.”  
Suddenly, the stairs seem infinite.  
The brunette is chanting some sort of mantra, begging his self-control to kick in. He’s terrified that he will see up Danny’s towel as they ascend. Terrified also because a part of him  _wants_  to see what’s there.   
“Look at your feet, Stiles. Look at your feet. You’ve got Derek.”  
“Derek,” he thinks. “Well that’ll be a shit storm later.”  
  
Not without difficulty, the boys make it to Danny’s room. It’s not very spacious but it’s extremely simple and tidy.   
The exact opposite of Stiles’. Danny possesses quite a large bed and indicates it.  
“Have a seat.”   
“Whe-where? There? On the bed?”  
The brunette scratches his head nervously.  
“Yes, Stiles. On the bed. I only have one chair in here and we need to compare results. You’re acting like it’s the first time you’re been here.”  
   
_It’s the first time since I discovered I was gay, the first time since I lost my virginity to the hottest werewolf in Beacon Hills…the first time since you greeted me practically naked…_  
  
Stiles parks his backpack on the floor and gingerly sits down. He bobs his head.  
“Soooo. Still a nice place. Yes. Clean. Well-aerated. Sturdy…um… furniture…you changed a lamp since I was last here?” He tries the headboard, only to realize what he’s mimicking.   
Danny is amused, he’s fully aware he’s making Stiles uncomfortable.  
  
“Yeah,” he sighs. “The lamp broke when I was having sex with Ethan. He liked to be tied up. Things would get kind of wild.”  
Stiles notices the deep scratches in the wood of the bedpost.   
_Oh my God._  
Stiles’ knee bounces again as he vigorously chews his gum.   
  
Danny’s studying Stiles. He’s not sure why but he’s had the sheriff’s son on his mind ever since the locker room. Maybe because he knows his friend is not a virgin anymore, and especially since he proved he can handle himself with an experienced (and endowed) lover. (He assumes correctly that Derek is very much both).  
What would it be like to sleep with Stiles? They’re seniors now, not much time left to find out.   
  
“Give me a sec, I’m gonna throw something on.” Danny points to the chest of drawers.   
Stiles gestures “go ahead.”    
“Yes, please Danny. For the love of god, put something on,” he mutters under his breath.   
  
His host stands in front of his dresser, his back to his teammate. He drops the towel with a tug of fabric.  
Stiles flinches. “Oh Jesus..” He can’t tear his eyes away.  
Danny’s body is perfectly proportioned and muscled. Of course, he’s known this all along, but he’s never had a chance to scrutinize his teammate with these new “gay” eyes of his.   
  
Danny is grinning to himself, he can feel the brunette’s body-scan burning into him. He takes an especially long time choosing a shirt. The goalie wants to be sure that Stiles has ample opportunity to see every inch of his magnificent backside.   
Stiles’ eyes travel the ridge down Danny’s wide back, up and over the roundness of his perfectly tan buttocks. The cleft. Oh god. His mind is reeling.   
Danny is no Derek, not by a stretch, but Stiles can’t help being curious. He’s just come into this sexual awakening recently so…what’s the harm in looking?

Danny turns, holding two shirts. He weighs them as if his palms were scales.  
“I can’t choose between the blue and the green. What do you think, Stiles?”  
  
Stiles’ mouth could catch flies. Wow. Scott wasn’t kidding. Even soft, Danny has quite the package.   
His teammate squints, pointing with his index finger. “Danny…um…your….”  
He peeks down and shrugs.   
“Oh, I don’t have a problem with nudity, Stiles.” He cocks his head. “So, which one do you like?”   
  
The brunette is basically having a small coronary. The “problem” down below is now beyond manageable proportions.  
“Um…” his Adam apple bobs. “The green. Yeah, definitely the green.”  
Stiles’ eyes memorize how Danny’s penis looks. Just for…posterity. It’s definitely impressive.  
It’s thinner than Derek’s, and also shorter. But not by much. Definitely darker. He’s also uncut (were there no circumcisions performed in this town?)  
By Stiles’ standards, it’s a beautiful dick.   
Speaking of dicks, his own is still misbehaving. He kicks off his shoes and sits back against the headboard, hugging his legs to his chest. Maybe this will hide his shame.  
   
“Okay, green it is.” Danny pulls it over his head, abs taut. The v-neck shirt hugs him perfectly. He digs in a second drawer, grabbing a pair of sweat pants. Apparently Danny doesn’t like underwear.  
Stiles shifts. “Um okay then…commando it is.”   
  
With the goalie finally dressed, (more or less), the boy sits down next to Stiles. The bed dips in the middle with the both of them on it. Stiles stares where their knees touch.   
“So, where do you want to start?” Stiles croaks. He can feel a drop of sweat catch on his waistband.  
  
His lab partner leans in and says nothing.   
Stiles is still trying to play it cool. “Wanna grab your notes and I’ll get my book? Awesome. Let’s do that.”  
He gulps.  _Jesus Christ._  
The sexual tension is so thick it’s palpable.  
  
The brunette leans down and zips open his backpack. He peels out the heavy science textbook and lays it in front of them.   
“Danny? Your notes? Come on, big guy.”  
The boy still doesn’t speak. He reaches his arm out, without tearing his gaze from Stiles, and shuts off the light.  
“Look at that, the power went out.” His voice is emotionless.   
  
Okay, now Stiles is fully panicking.  
“Daniel, we can’t study with the light off. Are you photophobic or something? Should we use the flashlight from my phone?”  
Danny just smiles and slowly removes his shirt.   
“What did he put it on for in the first place?!” Stiles screams in his head.   
"Sure, or we could start removing clothing."   
_Ohgodohgodohgod_  
The sheriff’s son tries one last resort to save the moment. “Well, the AP Bio assignment is…”  
  
The goalie flips the book shut.   
“Stiles, don’t pretend you don’t know what’s going on here.”  
Danny hazards a touch. Right on Stile’s inner thigh.  
The brunette retreats, breath catching. “Danny, what are you doing?!”  
He can feel his heartbeat thundering in his ears.  
  
“Stiles, you didn’t come over here to study. I didn’t ask you over to study. I think you are  
just as intrigued as I am at how this can play out.”  
The hand inches upwards, central. The goalie’s fingertip grazes the bulge ever so lightly and Stiles hisses.  
  
“Very nice,” Danny moans.  
The brunette grasps him by the wrist, but doesn’t pull the hand away.  
“Danny,” he pants, “look. You’re very attractive. I’m extremely flattered. And I can’t deny what’s happening in my pants right now, but…”  
“Derek?”  
“Yeah, Derek. I love him. I mean, just last night…”  
  
Danny nods as he angles in. “Yes, just last night you took a huge cock not once but _three_ times.”  
Stiles is squirming, trying in vain to turn his face away.  
“Well, if we want to be exact, it was twice last night and once this morning, but who’s being finicky?”  
  
His friend is so close now he can almost taste him. Danny’s shadowy gaze rests on Stiles’ full mouth, which is twisted into a worried expression.  
Stiles has swallowed his gum from nerves.  
“Now see, that’s really hot. Someone with your stamina…I mean, wow. You must be such a good boy, so obedient. The things I could do to you...”  
  
Stiles knows this is wrong. Very, very wrong. But Danny whispering these things to him... his hot, minty breath caressing his moist lips, well he's unable to resist.  
Add to that the strong hand now working his shaft over hard denim,  it’s too much.  
  
“There’s a huge cock here too, Stiles. All yours for the taking. I owe you that much, not robbing you of your virginity when you asked. I’m sorry I didn’t realize then the potential you had.”  
Stiles perceives it, the heat emanating from the massive hard-on poking into him. Just one layer of cotton separates them.  
“Danny, I can’t. I …I..Derek.” Danny cups his balls while twisting over the head.   
_Oh god. This feels so good._  
  
The goalie is kneading Stile’s erection over his jeans with calculated upward strokes, the boy’s hand still attached limply to his wrist.  
“Don’t you want to try something different, just this once? Even Scott will tell you, it’s worth it.” He cups his teammate’s cheek.  
  
Wait a minute.  _What?_ Okay, the lust fog clouding Stiles’ judgment right now doesn’t allow him to process this. But he’s putting it in his “WTF” folder, to be discussed later if he ever manages to get his best friend on the phone.  
  
The brunette emits a whimper, and Danny squeezes harder, rutting his erection against his friend’s thigh.  
Stiles has a protest lumped in his throat, it just won’t come out.  
  
Danny’s touch is so different from Derek’s. His hands are rougher, weathered by sports, and his movements less rushed.  
Stiles’ hand timidly seeks Danny’s manhood. It twitches when the sheriff’s son grabs onto its girth.    
_One touch won't hurt._  
  
“Oh fuck yeah, Stiles…touch me…”  
  
Stiles’ eyes roll into the back of his head as Danny licks across his eager, parted lips. The sweetness of his tongue on the goalie’s tempts him to give in fully.  
Danny groans into him. “You can fuck me if you want. I switch. I don’t mind swallowing your dick whole, wherever you want to put it.”  
“Oh holy fuck,” Stiles grunts.  
  
Drunk on arousal, their mouths crash together. Danny moves to get fully on top, Stiles' fingers digging into his flesh as he guides his torso.  
That’s when the bedroom door flies off its hinges, scaring the two men half to death.    
  
Derek Hale, crimson eyes ablaze and fangs bared, emits such a growl that the walls shake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh shit!  
> More to come...thanks to everyone for reading this and following along ... I don't even know where this fic will take me.


	4. Forgive me, Father...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath. Stiles gets caught kissing/groping with Danny. The Alpha is not pleased.  
> Is it over for Sterek?
> 
> Possible triggers for physical violence and emotional angst.

Danny doesn't know what hit him. The Alpha moves so quickly it resembles a special effect. To quote "The Breakfast Club," it's Derek hitting Danny and Danny hitting the floor. With a loud thud.

Stiles feels like he's moving in slow motion. Hands outstretched, he can hear himself screaming but it's something outside the sphere of his physical awareness. Everything inside his soul cries out. 

The brunette watches the wolf from the back, his massive arms swinging from left to right, striking repeatedly and swiftly. It's a pendulum of fury and no one in the room is strong enough to stop him.  
Derek has pinned the boy beneath him, whose lip and nose hemorrhage profusely.  
The coppery smell in the air inebriates the animal within him. 

"What did you think you were doing, Danny? Who do you think you are?!" He's got him by the throat, canines a hair's breadth from the boy’s jugular. The wolf perceives the fear on him, it’s almost coating his skin like a membrane.  
His prey averts his burning red gaze.  "Look at me" The Alpha commands.   
The goalie sobs below him, drawing in short, broken breaths.   
"I'm sorry...." he wheezes. "I'm so sorry..." 

Derek is straddling the boy, deciding whether to tear open his throat. The thought process right now is irrational and fueled by jealousy. Stiles stands by, dazed under some state of shock, limbs trembling.  
He’s too afraid to touch Derek. He might spin further out of control. The horror brewing inside the brunette is only sublimated by his concern for Danny.

"Der-" he speaks for the first time, using a soft tone. "Derek, please. You're hurting him. Look at him, he can't breathe."   
A quaking hand indicates the frightened body beneath the Alpha.  
The sound of Stiles’ voice brings him back. Derek’s eyes shift from cerise to green in stages as he relaxes. He unclenches his scraped fists as a terrified, bleeding Danny pants beneath him.  
  
The wolf pulls back a moment, releasing his grip on Danny's throat.  
Derek moves over and sits up, chest heaving, his back against the side of the bed.   
The room is still dark but his night vision is perfect. He stares at his palms, fingers covered in ink and Danny’s life juice.  
  
The goalie scrambles backwards, rolls over, and cowers in the corner. He’s nursing his swollen lips.  
Stiles steps around Derek and leans down, a hand on his forearm. His friend doubles over, coughing up blood onto the rug.  
  
“Danny, Danny… are you okay?”  
“Get away from me, Stiles,” he mumbles. One side of his mouth is bruised and he sounds like he came from the dentist.  
Derek watches them both, counting his breaths to help the rage subside.  
“I wouldn’t be rude to him, Danny. You can thank Stiles for me not killing you tonight.”  
  
The goalie’s still hyperventilating. The fear in the air makes Derek’s stomach turn.  
“I’m sorry, Derek. I didn’t mean to encroach, I wanted to be with him once. It was just something unresolved and I thought…I didn’t know it was so serious between you. I’m sorry. I just suddenly found him irresistible.”  
  
Derek’s eyebrows arch and he puckers his lips. “Did he not tell you he loved me? Did he not mention my name repeatedly? And yet you insisted.”  
Stiles has been silent. His heart is breaking from guilt and shame.  
“You heard all that?” he whispers.  
  
Derek’s tone is somber. “Yes, Stiles. All of it. After you hung up on me I thought something was off. I followed your scent and it brought me here. I stood outside for a while because I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.”  
“Der- I…I lost my mind. I’m _so_ sorry. There is no excuse for what happened. I’m sorry. It's like I was possessed.” The desperation rises and Stiles whines.  
“Der, please…”  
  
Derek shakes his head. “Not here. Get up, we’re leaving. Danny, put some ice on that, you’ll be fine. I made sure to not break any bones. I can hear your vital organs are working fine.”  
“Gee thanks,” he replies sarcastically. “You’re a psychopath, Derek, you know that?!”  
  
Derek rises, but leans in close enough to the goalie’s face to make him flinch.  
“You ever hit on Stiles again, even touch him the wrong way at school, I’ll know about it. THEN you’ll find out how much of a psychopath I am.” He bares his teeth, fangs now retracted.  
  
The wolf points his finger at Stiles. “And you, get your bag. We’re leaving.”  
Stiles hangs his head, looping the backpack into his shoulder. He forgets about the science book on the bed, but he won’t be getting any studying done tonight anyway so it doesn’t matter.  
  
Derek and Stiles walk out of the house in silence and stop in front of Stiles’ jeep. The brunette’s arms hang limp at his sides. He’s sniffling, tears welling.    
“Der-“  
“Give me the keys.” Derek extends his hand.  
“Wait, how did you get here?”  
“I ran. Now give me the keys.”  
Derek’s face is sullen. Stiles plunges a hand into his pocket and hands over the car keys, trying to let his fingers graze his lover’s. Derek recoils, it’s like a stab to his heart.    
“Get in.”  
Derek puts it in drive and pulls out slowly. The air is heavy with emotion, almost stifling.  
  
Stiles is biting his lip, stealing glances at what is a fuming werewolf. Both his knees bounce and he feels like crying.  
They proceed for about a mile before Derek screams, startling Stiles.  
“FUCK!” he hits the steering wheel with his fists.  
  
Unexpectedly, Derek pulls over. As soon as he's turned off the engine, the wolf’s powerful hands grip Stiles’,  his own still soiled with blood and ink.  
He reverts his gaze to the two chocolate eyes staring at him in torment.  
“Why?” he whispers. “You gave in at the end. Why Stiles?” The Alpha’s voice poorly hides sadness.  
Two green daggers tear a hole into the boy, the other’s soul ripping into shreds.  
  
“I don’t know,” Stiles murmurs. “I don’t fucking know. You can't understand how awful I feel. Well, you smell everything. Maybe you can. And know what? The more it progressed, the worse I felt. I was distant, empty. Physically he excited me, but it was nothing like…like when we made love. It’s like that pleasurable feeling was not connecting to my brain at all.”  
The brunette tries to read Derek but he’s giving him nothing.  
  
“Derek I am begging you, please forgive me. It was a huge mistake. I swear it was like being drugged.”  
He takes a pause. “And I know you heard me. I love you.”  
Stiles can’t hold in the anguish anymore and starts sobbing.  
Derek is still caressing his hands, speechless.  
  
“Stiles..” his voice is calm. “Over here, Stiles.”  
His human blinks back the tears and meets his gaze. “What?”  
Derek clears his throat.  
“There’s a reason you felt empty with Danny. And also a reason why you might have felt…hypersexual. You didn’t notice, did you?”  
  
Stiles breaks one hand free to wipe his eyes. “What? Notice what?”  
Derek pulls down the collar of his lover’s shirt with one index finger, using his other to circle the crescent-shaped hickey at the juncture between the shoulder and neck.  
“This. I did this to you last night.”  
  
He strains his head to look, pulling down his chin. “Yeah, the hickeys. I remember, but what does that..”  
Derek interrupts him.  
“Stiles, this one is not a hickey. This one is a bite. I marked you last night. While we were making love the second time.”  
Derek’s gaze softens. “I chose you as my mate.”  
  
Stiles gasps, his heart jumping into his throat.  
“Oh my god, Derek. OH MY GOD. You chose me as your mate?! And I…and I…what have I done?”  
  
He covers his mouth with one palm, desperate. This makes what just happened so awful, and now Stiles wants to die.  
Derek shakes his dark head.  
  
“Stiles, I knew the minute we met in the woods it was you. As soon as I smelled you.  It needed time. You were really young then, too young. At that point it would have been extremely  _illegal and weird._ Perhaps you aren’t fully ready for this now, either, but you'll be 18 very soon and you’ve reached your sexual maturity. Above all, I love you so much I can't bear not being with you anymore. You’re my mate. I couldn't wait any longer, and those selfish reasons are on me.”  
  
The Alpha sighs, looking away a moment. “When I marked you, I sort of… made you go into heat. Or the male version of it. You being human, already hormonal, and my being an Alpha, this connection is much deeper and also more perilous.”  
Stiles is listening but the sound of his heart pounding is an echo in his chest that’s very distracting.  
   
“Your hormones raged within hours, worse than they probably ever did, but in that right you also became incredibly seductive to others, especially those who might have already been attracted to you. That’s why Danny couldn’t help himself.”  
Stiles nods. He’s still too shocked to speak, though. This is a lot to take in.  
  
“I reacted to what you both were doing because it was wrong, but I had a hand in it so I’m sorry I _overreacted_. Having said that, I never liked Danny and he planned this encounter down to the dim lights so he kinda deserved it. He’ll think twice about hitting on guys who are taken, _whether or not they are mated_.”  
  
Stiles smiles to himself, dimples popping on his cute face.  
Derek being jealous is sweet. Stiles never had that. Stiles had no one looking out for him and caring for him, except for Scott (and his father). And both of those are a different brand of love.   
The Alpha squeezes Stiles’ thigh.  
  
“This will unfortunately get worse over the next few days, until this first cycle finishes, so I am tempted to lock you in the loft with me. I can’t have you attracting every werewolf in Beacon Hills.”  
Derek grins. God Stiles has missed this.  
“I wouldn’t object to a sta-cay with you.” He's finally able to smile back.   
The Alpha agrees, but with hesitation.  
  
“You hurt me deeply today, Stiles, I can’t deny that. I’m still angry and disappointed. I was hoping you’d be stronger. But I'm aware how much you struggled to resist, and that Danny was just evil in his intent. It doesn’t excuse what you did but I am hardly perfect. Part of this was my fault, too. Just give me some time, I’ll forgive this indiscretion. I’d be a hypocrite not to. I just need to understand that I can trust you again.”  
Stiles is at a loss, honestly.

“Derek, how can you be so nice to me after all I’ve done?”  
Derek traces the tear lines down Stiles’ cheek with the back of his hand.  
  
“Because now you comprehend what lengths I will go to to protect our love. And I believe that you love me, truly. Purely. I can sense it on you. So regardless of what happened with that idiot, deep down I was certain you were mine. You’ll always be mine. Our connection will only get stronger, and we’ll live one for the other. Temptation will fade. But what I need from you, from today forward, is complete honesty. Don’t be afraid to tell me anything, don’t hang up on me thinking I won’t know what’s going on. I am you and you are me, Stiles. Got it? II promise to do the same.”  
  
The sheriff’s son bows his head. “I love you, Derek. And again, I’m sorry.”  
“I know angel. It’ll be okay. Now let’s get home. I have to give you your punishment.”  
Stiles’ face darkens. “Punishment?”  
Derek’s eyes sparkle in response. “At the Hale house, when you misbehave you get spanked.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know not all of you will agree with this chapter, but I like to think people are human, and in part even werewolves are, and we all make mistakes.  
> Especially given the reason why these guys suddenly felt uber-horny. It's not an excuse to cheat, but everyone deserves a second chance.  
> Even Greenberg. (Who will make an appearance along with Coach in the next chapter).


	5. Reading Material

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott and Stiles try to have an important conversation in Econ class but get disrupted.  
> Derek receives an unexpected visitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No triggers here unless you hate Econ! Ha.  
> It's clear I've taken liberties with events and timelines, but it shouldn't interfere too much with the story line. Enjoy!

Coach’s voice is droning on and on in the background. A lot of his students are rolling their eyes or yawning.   
“The figure shows a production possibilities frontier between milk and cookies (PPF1). If a disease kills half of the economy's cow population, less milk production is possible, so the PPF shifts inward (PPF2). Note that if the economy produces only cookies, so it doesn't need any cows, then production is unaffected. But if the economy produces any milk at all, then there will be less production possible after the disease hits.”

Stiles is slouching completely in the chair, chewing on his pen top. He’s distracted and in pain. Last night’s spanking, (yes, Derek actually spanked him), left bruises on his buttocks. He honestly doesn’t know if he can participate in practice since he can barely stand without feeling like his ass is literally on fire. That means Coach is going to chew him out. Again.   
He catches Scott side-glancing him. He’s been doing it all class.  
   
“Stiles…psst” Scott whispers.  
“What?” The brunette keeps looking forward to avoid getting caught.  
“Sorry I didn’t call you last night. I had to go visit Isaac, he’s still getting treatments.”  
“It’s fine," Stiles replies. "I probably wouldn’t have been able to talk. Things got…complicated.”  
_That’s an understatement._  
“What happened? Weren’t you at Danny’s studying?”  
Stiles nods. “Yup. And then the shit hit the fan.”  
  
The Alpha pretends to listen to the lecture when Coach looks his way.  
“What happened? Why isn’t Danny in school today?”  
Stiles flinches.   
“Long story. I’ll tell you later. Let’s just say I’ll be avoiding him for a while. Which won’t be easy since we’re in 3 classes together and, oh, on two sports teams.”  
Scott’s eyebrows knot.  
  
“Switching between the two products enables the line is straight and not bowed out…” Coach is at the board, back turned. No one is really paying attention except Greenberg.  
  
The Alpha wants more details and leans over. As soon as he does, he winces. “Oh my god…”  
Stiles sits up and grimaces. “What?!”  
“I could sense it from afar but when I get this close…all I can smell on you is Derek. More than his scent. It’s…visceral. Jesus, it’s SO strong. I’m sorry I have to move away…it’s inebriating.” He leans back.  
“Inebriating? Visceral? Did you swallow a dictionary, Scott?”  
Stiles sniffs his armpit. “I don’t smell it, but I trust you.”  
  
Scott covers his nose and mouth with his hand. “Dude, it’s insane. It’s switching on my Alpha instinct, makes me want to scent you.”  
Stiles shrugs. “Um…is that good or bad?”  
“It means I’m attracted to you and I want to put my scent on you to cover Derek’s.” There’s the smallest bit of distress in his voice. There was once a time he had a crush on Stiles.  
His elevator eyes take in his friend from head to toe. “God, the more I look at you the more I’m turned on.”  
  
Scott’s chocolate eyes saucer about the same time as Stiles’.  
His friend’s mouth hangs ajar but he doesn’t know what to say. “Scott…thank you? But you’re…”  
“Dude, I’m not gay.” _Well, not completely true._ “So there’s only one explanation,” he murmurs from behind his palm.  
  
“MCCALL!”  
The Alpha snaps to attention. “Ugh, Coach?”  
“Something you’d like to share with the class, McCall?” Coach crosses his arms and appears more annoyed than usual.  
Scott shakes his head. “Nope. Definitely not.”  
“Okay then. Would you like to elucidate on the difference between absolute advantage and comparative advantage? Since I’m sure you did last night’s reading.”  
Coach sneers.  
  
Everybody turns to look at Scott and of course he blushes a deep pink.  
“Um, actually I did, Coach.” He smiles shyly. “Absolute advantage is the concept of the quantity of inputs required in order to generate goods. Comparative advantage is the idea of producing goods in a lower opportunity/cost than another person.”  
Stiles smirks.  
  
Coach nods and cracks his gum. “Okay, McCall. Okay. Good. Keep it up. By the way when will Mr. Lahey be joining us again?”  
“He comes back this weekend. He’s doing much better now,” Scott affirms.  
“Mmhm. Okay. Good. The team is so pathetic this year I can use all the help I can get.”  
Coach shoots Greenberg an eye dart and shakes his head. "I wasn't talking about you, Greenberg. You're useless. In fact, I don't understand why you keep showing up every day?!"

The lecture proceeds and Stiles looks back towards his friend.  
“What do you mean you’re attracted to me if you’re not gay, Scott? Why would you be?”  
The Alpha shrugs. _Maybe because I might be bi?_  
“It’s a territorial thing, a werewolf thing. It happens when someone is mated, Stiles. When they’re in heat, right afterwards they drive the people around them crazy with desire.”  
Stiles’ cheeks burn. He knows all this, too well.  
  
Scott’s gaze beckons his. “Derek mated you, didn’t he? This is the only explanation.”  
The brunette dips his head. “Yeah, he did. The night we… Anyway, we love each other, Scott.”  
Scott averts his gaze. “Yeah, I know. I can smell that on you, too.”  
Stiles senses melancholy in his tone. “Dude, can I ask you something after class?”  
The Alpha nods. “Yeah, sure.”

The boys sit in silence for the rest of the period, Stiles wrestling with urges for Derek, Scott staring out the window, going over various events in his mind. His best friend being in heat has brought up all those confusing feelings he had last year.  
After Allison, the Alpha was never the same. It was difficult to seek comfort in another girl’s arms, especially after all the madness that had gone down which led to her death.  
It had crushed him, allowing thoughts to surface that Scott had long kept hidden. Those feelings led him into Danny’s bed for a while.  
Things ended with his teammate when Scott decided he was only “experimenting.” Deep down he knew it wasn’t true, but by then he had hurt Danny’s ego and there was no going back.  
  
The bell rings and everyone gathers their things. As Scott and Stiles file out, Coach blocks the brunette.  
“Stilinski, I’d like to talk to you a minute.”  
Scott waves goodbye and Stiles moves hesitantly to Coach’s desk.  
  
“It’s a good thing you stopped me, Coach. I… I’m sorry but I have to skip practice again today.”  
Finstock sighs. “More rough sex, Stilinski? Is that why Danny’s not in school today? You horny teenagers will be the death of me. Fine, sit out. You don’t do all that much, anyway.”  
The brunette feigns offense. “Coach! I do…stuff. I’m great at holding your clipboard, aren't I?”  
His stupid grin isn’t enough to get a laugh out of Coach.  
  
“I stopped you because, in light of our conversation last night, I um…took it upon myself to gather some reading material for you. This helped me a lot during my…discovery.”  
Stiles cocks an eye. “Coach, you’re gay?”  
Bobby nervously massacres his gum. “There’s no label for what I am, Stilinski.”  
“No argument there,” Stiles replies.  
“Stop being a smart-ass and take the pamphlets.”  
  
In Coach’s hand are 3 pamphlets, which look quite weathered.  
“Coach, I don’t think that I need– “  
"STILINSKI TAKE THE DAMN PAMPHLETS!"  
  
The brunette recoils as he grabs them. “Fine. Jesus!”  
  
Stiles fans them out and reads the titles.  
**HIP HIP HOORAY YOU’RE GAY**  
**I’M GAY, NOW WHAT? A GUIDE TO ANAL SEX**  
**YOUR PROSTATE, YOUR ALLY**

Stiles is speechless. “OH MY GOD.”  
Coach nods. “I know. It’s going to be COMPELLING READING, Stilinski. Let me know what you think.”  
He pats Stiles on the shoulder as he walks out.  
Stiles just stands staring at them, mouth hanging open. "Who in the world would print something like this?"  
  
-

Derek is reading on the sofa, legs perched below him. The words are seen but not comprehended. The only vision in his mind right now is Stiles.  
Mating certainly impacted his lover, and painfully so, but the Alpha isn’t without impression. The sexual desire and need for contact have multiplied a hundred-fold. The emotional connection even more.  
He steals glances at the clock on the wall. Just a couple more hours and he can pick him up from school. God, he misses the brunette.  
  
Something is disturbing the Alpha. When Stiles’ father returns from his training course, and finds out that Derek wants Stiles to move in…well, that will be a difficult conversation.  
Of course, Derek has yet to make this request to the young man, but with recent events, Stiles living apart from him would be absolutely unbearable. For the both of them.  
  
Derek sighs when all of a sudden his senses perk up. Oh no. The door to the loft slides open and another werewolf enters.  
“Nephew, so nice to see you again.”  
Peter Hale. When did he get back? And WHY has he returned?  
  
The Alpha grunts, closing his book.  
“Peter. What are you doing here?”  Red eyes scrutinize his uncle.  
“Whoa, whoa Derek. No need to turn on the wolf. I’m only passing through. Wanted to confirm that it’s true.”  
  
Derek finds this exhausting already. Peter plops down on the couch, his buff physique almost bursting out of his leather jacket.  
“I see you’ve been working out.” The uncle points to Derek’s arms.  
“Yeah, you too. You might want to spring for a bigger jacket…”  
  
Peter’s azure eyes sparkle. “Ouch. I’m not fat.”  
Derek sighs. “Never said you were. Anyway, unless you only came here to get your ego stroked, Uncle, what do you want?”  
Peter sits up. “Fine. Word on the werewolf grapevine is that a certain green-eyed Alpha is off the market.”  
Derek grins. He can’t help it. The mere mention of Stiles, even alluded, makes him happy.  
  
“And there it is,” his uncle claps his hands. “Judging by the scent in here, my nephew has mated with one Stiles Stilinski. And before you ask, I remember how all of them smell. And how is young Scott McCall nowadays? Nevermind, one thing at a time.”  
Derek is growing impatient. “Yes, Peter. I chose Stiles as my mate.”  
Peter’s examining his nails. “Stiles. Really? That scrawny dork is your life mate?”  
  
The Alpha fists his hands and leans forward. “I’d advise against bad-mouthing my mate, Peter. The outcome won’t be pretty.”  
“SSssss,” he hisses. “I know, I remember your temper. Just explain to me why? Why did you choose so early?”  
  
There’s no malice in Peter’s question, Derek senses that. He really has no one to speak with, about this and in general. A part of him wants to share. Too bad it's going to be with someone he despises.  
   
Derek fiddles with his sleeve. “It was fated. I knew he was my mate when I met him and Scott at the woods. But he was so young then and _annoying._ But with time, he changed. With all the events that happened here, all he's done to help. I fell deeper in love. He’s still annoying but now it’s endearing.”  
“That’s a matter of opinion but go on…” Peter interjects.  
  
“Look, Peter. Look around me. I’m alone. I’ve lost my pack, and all the anger and resentment in me just pushed away the very people I wanted near. Scott and I are on good terms, and things are also civil with the others. And now that I’ve mated Stiles, I know we’ll have more contact. But I’m lonely. I got sick of being lonely and bitter. And with this unusually quiet spell in Beacon Hills, with no monsters and no one trying to kill us, that’s bad for me. My mind gets loud, all my demons come out of the dark corners of my brain and I disintegrate. Stiles saved me from myself. He makes me happy, and he makes me want to be a better man.”  
  
Peter’s expression is one of doubt. “All this in two days?”  
Derek shakes his head. “No, my transformation was a slow process. But the emotions that I’ve allowed to come out, the mating opened a flood gate.”  
His uncle moves to stand. “I think he’s going to make you weak, nephew.”  
  
The Alpha rises. “No, Peter. He won’t. He’s going to make me compassionate and kind, two things you will never be.”  
The beta almost looks hurt. “Wow, you certainly don’t have a problem baring your fangs, though.”  
He adjusts his jacket as he gets to his feet. “I’m not completely evil, you know. There is some emotion left in me.”  
  
Derek guffaws. “I’d like to see you prove that, but I don’t want you here long enough to witness it.”  
Peter smirks.  
“Right. No love lost. Well, I’m going to see Malia and then I’m leaving. Don’t worry, I won’t be in Beacon Hills long. Thanks for the chat. And mazel tov to you and the boy.”  
  
Derek watches him leave, an unsettling knot forming in his stomach. Peter Hale has never been honest a day in his life, and he certainly wouldn't be starting today. Derek needs to be on alert, and he's going to warn Scott as well.   
He picks up his phone and texts the other Alpha.   
_Scott, Peter Hale is in town. Be careful, and warn Malia. He wants to see her._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for reading. I hope you are enjoying this fic as much I am writing it.  
> Derek is becoming very dear to me. As the chapters go on I will be adding characters and tags, while trying not to spoil anything.  
> Please comment and kudo if you desire, I love interacting with my readers. Your comments and loyalty are precious to me.


	6. The Golden Hour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott finally comes out to Stiles, and Coach has a question for his student.  
> Derek has become a softie, but only for Stiles.

The hallway is crowded with kids, and Stiles is navigating it poorly. If he’s not getting bumped into, someone elbows him. This is the madness of the first lunch hour. He speeds up when he spots his best friend.  
“Scott, Scott. Wait up!”  
The Alpha halts, half turns. “Hey Stiles. What did Coach want?”  
Stiles shakes his head vigorously.  
“Oh my God, Scott. You wouldn't believe me if I told you. Look at these."  
One glance at the pamphlets and Scott grabs his stomach, laughing hysterically. "What are you, Coach's little gay pet project?"

Stiles grimaces. "Dear God, please don't say gay pet in the same sentence as Coach. I think I just threw up in my mouth."  
Scott throws his head back in hilarity. He’s carrying a couple large textbooks in his arms and almost drops them.  
“What’s up, Stiles? I really have to get to the library. Walk with me.”  
Stiles agrees, almost hopping from excitement.  
“Dude, calm down," The Alpha requests. "You’re making me nervous.”  
The brunette takes a deep breath. “Sorry I’m so hyper, I just took my meds. Listen, I wanted to talk to you about something. It's kinda ... personal.” 

The Alpha stops at the end of the hall, by the library entrance. He leans back against some lockers.  
"Yeah sure. What's up?"

"I have to tell you what happened last night," his friend whispers. Stiles proceeds to recount the previous night's happenings. The more his friend regales him with details, the more Scott's mouth hangs open.  
Stilinski runs nervous fingers through his hair.  
“Dude, Derek would have killed him had I not intervened."  
Scott is astonished. "Knowing Derek, I bet. Shit. So that's why Danny isn't in school today?"  
The brunette nods.   
"And Derek forgave you?"  
"Well, more or less. You know with the whole mating story..."

Scott’s face screws up. "Yeah, speaking of...step back a little dude. That scent is driving me insane. I kinda want to kiss you right now."  
  
"Oh okay, sorry." Stiles replies as he retreats. A light bulb turns on in his mind. "Hey...listen, about that."  
Scott looks worried. "About me kissing you?"  
"No, Scott. God. Would you just let me finish?! It was something Danny said last night. That I could ask you about how great he was in bed."  
The Alpha looks around him as if someone could hear. He swallows hard.   
"Scott, you're blushing."  
"I know. "

Stilinski corners him. "Dude are you gay and never told me? Because obviously I wouldn't have a problem with it. I mean hello? I’m gayer than Christmas." 

Scott fidgets, fumbling with the text books. "Stiles...it's complicated."

His friend draws in an impatient breath.  
"Not really, bro. Either you like guys or not. That feeling at least isn’t complex.  I mean, are you bi? You did date Allison. I'm not asking you to label yourself necessarily, just tell me what you feel. We’re best friends."  
At the mention of her name, Scott's demeanor darkens. Stiles is right. It’s time to come clean.   
With a long sigh, the Alpha admits everything.  
"Look, after Allison was killed it was really hard. I could barely look at girls. It brought up some feelings for me that I had kept hidden since middle school. I'd had a crush on you, Stiles, when we were in 8th grade. I never told you."  
"On me?" The brunette grins.

“Yeah, I mean we're best friends and we spend every minute together, sometimes I think it happens. Back then you were really nice to me and I like people who are kind. Plus you've got those adorable dimples..."

Now Stiles is blushing. "Aww thanks dude. I do have pretty awesome dimples."  
"And you're modest..."  
"And I'm modest..." Stiles chuckles. 

Scott takes a deep breath. "Anyway, Danny is telling the truth. He and I slept together last year. It was all a secret. Kinda made it even hotter. "  
Stiles is trying not to picture his friends in the throes of passion but fails miserably.  
The Alpha snaps his fingers. “Dude!”  
The sound jerks him back to attention. "Sorry, that visual. Anyway, so that is how the both of you knew that the other's...?"

"Yeah. After a while, I broke it off telling Danny I was only experimenting. It hurt him and it was awkward for a while, but then he got over it. I mean you know how chill Danny is. Deep down I knew I was bi, I just wasn't ready to admit it."  
"Dude you knew I was gay, why didn't you ever tell me?! I mean we're best buds."  
Scott shrugs, reaching out to touch his friend’s shoulder. "Stiles..I wanted to. But sometimes secrets are easier to swallow then spit out. "

Stiles smirks. "You just served that one to me on a silver platter. So do you..?"  
"STILES oh my God!" The Alpha rolls his eyes. “You’re impossible. I’m trying to create a moment here..”  
"What?! Since we’re sharing it’s a legit question. I, for instance, tend to swallow unless asked otherwise."   
“Oh God…” Scott giggles. “Wait, haven't you only been with Derek? Or am I missing something?"  
"Well, full on sex, yes. But I experimented orally."

His best friend gasps. "What?! With whom?!'  
Stiles stares at his feet, shuffling them. “It was last summer. A guy from Devenford Prep. We met because our dads know each other.”   
"Who?!"  
"A lacrosse player named Brett. He’s a werewolf, too. Hey, I guess I have a type. Anyway, I suppose I kept secrets, too.”   
“No way, I know Brett, he’s cute. Good for you." Scott grins. "You’re a gay mystery Stiles Stilinski.”   
Stiles friendly-punches him in the shoulder.   
"Thanks for confiding in me.” The brunette leans in. “Since we're still on the subject, is he? "

Scott takes a step back. "Dude, distance. Heat.”  
His friend mouths “My bad.”  
“What? You mean is Danny good?"  
The brunette insists. "Yeah. Just curious."

Scott shades a dark mauve. "Oh yeah. He’s really good. But I’m not too shabby myself, friend." Scott winks.   
"I know you are all about the Stiles right now,” Stiles indicates his body with frenzied pointing, “But I'm not sleeping with you, buddy."  
The Alpha chuckles. "Dude, I'm kidding...you don't get my sense of humor at all."  
"I would if you had one..."  
Both boys frown.  
"Funny. Listen, I gotta run. See you at practice?” 

The brunette shakes his head. “No. I'm sitting out. Already told Coach.””  
“Again?”   
His friend dips his head. “Yeah, Derek spanked me. Having trouble walking.”   
“What?!”  
“Long story, dude. I don't even what to expect from my life anymore.”  
“You and Derek really have your own thing, don’t you?” The Alpha cracks up. “Well, I’ll call you later. Take care of your fine ass in the meantime.”

Stiles looks back at his butt.  “Haha! I'm still not sleeping with you!" Stiles shouts.   
As Scott walks away his pocket vibrates. It’s a text from Derek. 

"Shit." He turns. “Stiles, do you know where Malia is this period?"  
“Um, Geometry? What happened?"

"Peter Hale is back."

_

Stiles’ fist hovers, about to knock on Coach's door when it opens of its own accord. Finstock shrinks back. 

"Stilinski. Jesus. Give a guy a heads up. What are you doing here?" 

Stiles waves the pamphlets. "Wanted to drop these off, Coach."  
Coach raises an eyebrow and gestures with his hand. "Ah yes. Come right in. Take a seat."   
Stiles stammers. "Coach I wasn't really expecting to stay that long."

"Stilinski...sit. " Bobby points to the chair.  
Stiles enters cautiously, looking around him. With a slightly trembling hand he places the pamphlets on the desk.   
Coach leans in and sniffs Stiles as he passes to go to his desk. The brunette flinches. 

"Is that a new aftershave, Stilinski?" Coach inspires with his nose.  
"Don't believe so, Coach."  
Coach smells him once more. "You smell different. It’s inebriating. "

 _Oh God. The heat!_  
Bobby shakes his head as if he’s got something in his hair.  
"I don’t know what it is, Stiles, but you smell like pancakes. Anyway, back to the pamphlets. What did you think?"

Stiles did not read the pamphlets. "What can I say, Coach? Compelling."

Bobby nods as he cracks his gum. "I know. I know. I told you." He taps on them with his index finger. "This type of information is priceless, though I think you have an excellent grasp of the second one judging from yesterday."  Coach points to the anal sex leaflet and clears his throat. 

Stiles shifts uncomfortably as Coach stares deeply into his eyes. "Are you sure you didn't change aftershave? Deodorant? It’s almost pungent now."

The brunette shakes his head. "Nope. Coach, I really have to go. My boyfriend is picking me up."  
_Any excuse to get out of here._  
  
"Danny? Isn't he out today?"

Oops. 

"Yes, Coach he is. He went to the doctor and on his way back..." Stiles lies.  
"Whatever, Stiles. I don't care." Finstock moves papers around absentmindedly.  
“Stilinski, no more rough sex. You don’t do much but I need you back at practice. Tell Danny to take it easy on you, at least until after the tournament. Deal?”

The brunette stammers. “Coach, this is singularly the weirdest request a teacher has ever made to a student.”  
Finstock guffaws. “You think so? Stilinski you can’t imagine how profoundly disturbing Mr. Blake is. Those shop teachers are total freaks. He once asked Greenberg to hold his -"

"Too much information, Coach! Too much information."   
Coach inhales deeply, rounds the desk to sit on it, facing the student.  
"You know Stilinski, I never noticed what gorgeous eyes you have. Your mother's?"

Stiles swallows hard. "Uh-huh."  He hugs his backpack to his chest as he makes to get up.  
"Coach I really should…"  
Bobby raises a finger.

"Wait, Stilinski. Have you ever thought what it would be like to learn from an older, more experienced man? I mean once you're 18, which is soon if I recall... we could discuss these things more…deeply. Maybe have dinner? Now don’t get me wrong. I’ve never courted a student before. It always felt wrong. But Jesus most of you look 20 by the time you're seniors. How is a teacher supposed to cope?!   
But I digress. You- there’s something about you, Stilinski. You seem so much more mature, I don’t know. Which is why I believe you could benefit from the wisdom of an older man. See, there's this thing called a Daddy kink..."  
  
Stiles scrambles to his feet, almost dropping the backpack.  
"Holy God. Coach! I, um, appreciate the offer. Extremely flattered. But I am very, very in love with Der-anny. Danny, yes. And you know he's super experienced, a man whore really. So, I think I'm good."

Stiles has backed into the door, one hand on the knob.  
"Okay Stilinski, your loss. But know you can come to me, _for anything_. My door is always open."  
Bobby smiles, completely unaware of how creepy he is being.  
"Sure Coach. Of course. I'm gonna go now.”

Stiles shuffles out, shutting the door behind him.  
“ANYTHING STILINSKI” screams the Coach from within.

Stiles puts on his backpack, pulling out his phone to text. “Der, I’m ready to go. How much longer will this heat last?! Seriously considering your offer about the loft.”

-

Hours later, as the night sky’s flickering lights play shadow games on the dark floor of the loft, Stiles lies next to Derek, head propped up on one hand. The younger has one leg hooked into Derek’s powerful thigh, his other palm flat against his lover's smooth chest.  
Both men are glowing, their damp skin still flush with orgasm. Stiles’ cheeks tint pink, his long lashes batting lovingly at his Alpha.  
Derek is blushing deeply from the attention.    
“What, Stiles?” He traces his love’s lip line.  
The boy smiles. “Nothing. I’m just in awe of how beautiful you are.”  
The Alpha looks askance, playing timid. “Stop. You’re going to make me red.”  
Derek secretly loves it. His green eyes are almost twinkling.

“More than you are already, gorgeous? Your blush puts a rose’s to shame.”  
Derek angles in and Stile’s hand travels to his face, his soft beard still moist from their kissing.  
“Kiss me, again, angel.”  
The contact is rushed and needy. The brunette’s cherry lips devour Derek’s, their mouths hollowing out as their tongues frolic. Stiles moans into him, his hungry body angling for more touch. The wolf grins into the kiss.  
“Baby…I need…” the boy breathes, fingertips grazing the Alpha's cock.   
Derek pulls away, sucking on his lower lip before letting go completely.  
“I know, angel. It gets worse with the heat. You’re insatiable. Just a couple more days. Until then I’ll satisfy you every time you need it. I’m all yours.”  
  
Stiles smirks. “What? We’ll be having less sex when this is over? Not fair.”  
His wolf chuckles. “Don’t worry. If I have my way you won't notice the difference. And you’ll never go to another practice again.”  
“Can I get that in writing? I don’t really like Lacrosse anyway,” Derek’s lover snickers.  
  
The Alpha pulls the sheet up but the silk only slides off of Stiles’ shoulder. “Your Coach would be disappointed, though. I can’t believe Finstock hit on you. Good god.”  
The brunette shakes his head, giggling. “I am scarred for life, Der. Honestly. I’m going to have nightmares.”  
  
Derek twirls his finger into Stiles’ bangs. “You know it’s the heat, right? Maybe deep down he thinks you’re cute. I mean, teachers are human. But he didn’t desire you like that, not really.”  
“Well, except for the incredible sex we are having, I can’t wait for this to be over. First Danny, then Scott wanting to kiss me, and Coach just took the prize for creepiness. I’ve been avoiding the girls like the plague. I haven’t spoken to Lydia and Malia on purpose.”  
The wolf kisses him on the forehead. “It’s your undeniable charm, my love.”

Stiles stops a moment, bending his head.  
“I’m not used to this Derek. I thought you would be the sullen, brooding wolf for eternity.”  
“Do you miss me being grumpy?”  
The brunette bites into his lip. “Sometimes.”  
Derek embraces him, pulling him on top. “Well, I’m only sweet with you, Stiles. I’m still very much grumpy with all the others, especially those I dislike. I wasn’t very nice to Peter today.”  
“Yeah, what did he want?” Stiles plays with Derek's nipple.   
“I don’t know, but I warned Scott. That asshole always has an ulterior motive for everything.”  
  
The brunette nods, resting his cheek on Derek’s chest. He’s listening to his heartbeat.  
“I feel so safe with you, Derek. So safe. Like nothing in the world would dare harm me if you are near.”  
  
One large wolf’s paw caresses Stiles’ chocolate tresses. “Nothing will. I’ll always be here to protect you. I am you and you are me, remember?”  
The brunette agrees, head dipping back into the crook of Derek’s arm.  
“Stiles?”  
“Mm-hmm.”  
“I wrote you something.”  
Stiles looks up, amazement in his eyes.  
“What? You wrote…for me?” he stammers.  
  
Derek grins, a row of beautiful white teeth inviting Stiles to give him another smooch.  
“Well, let’s hear it!”  
“It’s just a thought, something that came to mind when thinking about us today. It's kinda stupid.”  
The younger is eager to listen. “Come on…come on..stop stalling.”  
"Okay, here goes:" he clears his throat.   
  
“Somewhere between a thousand mistakes, and a thousand walks caught in the rain, we lie. Comfortable and warm, bound together by fate. Like buildings burning at the tips with the last of the golden sunlight, this is our love. It smolders in our souls and sets fire to our loins. This bliss will consume us until we turn into ash and are carried away on the winds. But even then we shall be together because nothing exists in this world that can tear us apart.”

Stiles gasps, covering his mouth with two hands. “Der. Oh my god, Der. You are killing me here.”  
The wolf smiles shyly. “Did you like it?”  
His love lets a tear fall, plopping onto the Alpha’s chest. “No one has ever written anything for me. Ever. It’s beautiful. Jesus Der- I love you so much.” Stiles’ voice cracks.  
  
Derek sits up, pulling Stiles with him. He wipes away a new tear freshly forming in the corner of his eye.  
“I want to give you the world, Stiles. I only want to see you crying, if you must, because you’re happy. Though I'd rather you never did. You’re my life, you hear me? My life.”  
The Alpha kisses the top of the brunette's nose.   
“I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”  
His love kisses him softly. “I could say the same. Nobody ever loved me so deeply, giving the old me a chance. You did. You’re special, angel. The most beautiful brown-haired angel heaven let fall to the earth, just for me.”

Stiles opens his mouth to reply but both their phones go off with text alerts.  
The text is from Scott.  
“Have news on Peter. Meet me at my house, 10pm. Urgent.”  
  
Derek checks the clock. 9:26.   
"Shit. Why is Scott always such a cock blocker?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't resist making Derek soft again, but the next chapter will see a return of snarky Derek, albeit briefly. And Isaac!


	7. Pack Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy kids. This one is a doozy. We've got smut. Lots of it. We've got surly Derek. We've got Malia, Lydia, Isaac and Scott all in the same room.  
> I need a cigarette after writing this so you all please enjoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like it.

It’s late, and the exhaustion is evident on everyone’s faces. Malia is lying back on the couch, Lydia resting against her breasts. They rise and fall regularly, pressing into the redhead’s back. The werecoyote braids her friend’s long hair.  
Nimble fingers weave the ginger strands in almost a hypnotic way. Malia leans over, her soft lips kissing Lydia’s cheek lovingly. The banshee smiles back sweetly, returning the gesture by puckering in a beg for her lips.  
  
Isaac rocks on a chair at the nearby dining room table, clicking his pen top as he reads. His curls fall into his eyes and he uses them to hide his darting blue gaze. It’s difficult to gauge who the erection in his pants is for exactly.  
He’s not sure whether he’s more attracted to Lydia or Scott. Maybe both? Ever since he had his “episode” and had to spend a month in Eichen, he’s come back…invigorated. Some would use the word “horny.”  
It’s definitely been interesting. Though if he had to choose...  
  
The pack reunites in Scott’s living room. The Alpha sits on the lounge chair, fiddling with a flap of fabric that’s loose . His long, dark lashes bat quickly out of nervousness.  
Isaac sighs very loudly, the annoyance in his voice grating. “They’re late.”  
Scott knows but doesn’t want an argument. “I know. It’s only been 7 minutes. They’ll be here. I didn’t give them much time to get here.”  
  
Lydia twirls the end of her locks between her digits, checking the ends for breakage. “So, what’s up with that? Are they a thing now?” Her plump lips pout.  
Scott isn’t sure what to say, but upon their arrival it will be VERY apparent, at least to the wolves in the room. He might as well give them a heads up.  
“It’s very recent. Not even a couple days. Derek and Stiles are…um, mates. I’m just telling you guys because Stiles went into heat sometime late last night and it’s going to be extremely _noticeable._ ”

Isaac struggles to find words, his crooked mouth agape. “Wait? What?! Derek mated _Stiles_? I thought they hated each other.”  
“Apparently not,” Malia quips, blowing strands of her bob out of her face.  
  
The Alpha chuckles though a sudden heat takes over his belly. “Are you jealous, Isaac? You know Derek turned you so…”  
Isaac squints, not sure where Scott is going with this. “Couldn’t care less. It’s just seems like an unlikely coupling, that’s all.”  
  
Lydia clucks her tongue. “I think he’s jealous. Isaac looks like the type to have a Daddy kink.” She looks back at him and smirks. He sticks his tongue out in response.  
Scott is frozen. He fixates on Isaac’s ruby red lips, that pink tongue hanging on the prominent lower one. Something stirs in his groin.  
  
Wow. Stiles’ pheromones have really turned on his attraction to men. He’s noticed how pretty Isaac is but not until recently did he think of him in _this_ way. Living together has brought them closer for sure. Real close. They could get even more…intimate.  
  
It’s as if the beta can read his mind. His forehead wrinkles as he watches the Alpha from across the room, wondering if he’s imagining things. Is the boy mumbling to himself as his brown eyes burn into the sight of his luscious mouth?  
When Scott is caught staring a moment later, he swiftly turns away but by then it’s too late. Isaac has picked up on the arousal in the air and the proof is in the pudding, or rather in the bulge that Scott desperately tries to hide by folding his legs under him and hugging a throw pillow.  
The blonde smiles to himself in a self-satisfied way, chewing on his pinky from the hand he’s using to shield his expression. He’s going to explore this later, after everyone leaves.  
  
Scott is thinking about car accidents and dying grandparents, determined to placate the fire in his pants.  
The doorbell rings and it’s a welcome relief.  
“It’s open!” He yells.  
“Finally,” Isaac mumbles.  
  
The wind let in by the door opening and closing is all it takes for Stiles’ scent to hit the room.  
The brunette and the wolf walk in, hand in hand. To the guests in the room Derek looks like his old self. Decked out in a v-neck and tight jeans, his black leather jacket tight over his muscles. And the scowl.  
No one would guess how much of a softie he’s become when he’s back in the bedroom.  
  
Isaac is the first to notice the pungent odor, pressing his palm over his nose. “Oh my god. Stiles. Dude.”  
“I know, bear with me. Just a few more days. I’m assuming this means you all know?”  
Lydia and Malia sit up.  
“Yeah, we know,” Lydia grins. “I personally think it’s great.”  
Her girlfriend nods. “Me too. I think you’ll be good for one another. Derek will root you and Stiles, maybe you can make him smile on occasion.”  
  
Hale pokes Scott out of the lounge chair. “Get up, Scott." He turns to Malia. "And I smile plenty.”  
Scott is the True Alpha but a part of him will always respect Derek. The mere fact that two Alphas are in the same room and not at each other’s throats is a testament to progress.  
Derek takes the other's place and sniffs. The desire is oozing off of Scott. Sharp green eyes take in the wolf and then the beta until a smirk of understanding forms on Derek’s face.  
  
Stiles blushes, wishing he could tell them just how much his baby smiles now. They wouldn’t believe it, also because Derek is doing his best to keep up appearances.  
“Thanks, girls. I appreciate it. It’s all new but I’m really happy.” Stiles is in fact over the moon.  
  
Scott chokes on the smell. “I’m happy for you, too. Though personally I can’t wait for this heat to be over.”  
Stiles nods. “I know. It’s awful. I’m sorry.” His attention is drawn by Isaac who hasn’t looked up since the outburst.  
“Isaac? Any thoughts?”  
“On what?” He’s being purposely difficult.  
“On me and Derek.”  
  
The beta drops his pen and shifts in the chair. His long legs cross.  
“I think it’s weird,” he admits from across the room. “But who cares what I think, right?”  
Stiles shrugs, hiding his trembling hands in his pockets. This kid can always get a rise out of him. “Well, not me. I was just trying to include you. And nice _scarf_ by the way, Lahey. Did you knit that for yourself at Eichen? You do realize we’re indoors?”  
Isaac motions to get out of the chair “STILINSKI, why don’t you…”  
  
Derek growls until the fixtures shake. “Shut up. Both of you. Jesus Christ. Scott, who’s the Alpha again in this house?! And what’s so important you made me get out of bed, get dressed, and drive all the way over here?”  
Lydia raises a perfectly manicured eyebrow. “You were in bed at 9 o’clock?”  
Derek folds his arms across his large chest. “I didn’t say I was _sleeping_.”  
  
Scott takes charge. “Alright, alright. We’re all tired. It’s been a long day. I wanted to do a pack meeting. Peter Hale is back in town, as you all know, and I found out some things from Deaton. Peter’s been asking around, speaking to the guy who lives outside of town who’s apparently a warlock.”  
“Why would Peter need a warlock?” Isaac chimes in.  
Derek’s nervously rubbing his beard. “Because he needs to perform a spell. Either on someone or to obtain something. I knew he had a plan.”  
Stiles throws up his hands. “Great, now we’ve got warlocks. As if mutant supernatural creatures and Dread Doctors and Berserkers weren’t enough. So much for the dry spell. Was fun while it lasted.”  
  
Derek’s concerned look spreads to the rest of the group. “I don’t know if Scott agrees with me, but I know my uncle better than anyone. Malia, you really shouldn’t see him, under any circumstance.”  
Scott nods. “He’s right. You shouldn’t be left alone.”  
Stiles feels responsible for her, since his father, the Sheriff, took it upon himself to be her legal guardian.    
“Once this heat passes, and my Dad should be back by then, I’ll come back to the house. Until then, Malia, why don’t you continue staying with Lydia?”  
Derek tenses at the mention of Stiles returning home. It’s going to be difficult to convince him to move in.  
  
Malia’s eyes register a moment of panic. “What do I tell him? He’s been texting, he wants to see me.”  
Lydia seeks out Malia’s hand and they lace their fingers together. “I’m not leaving her side. I know first-hand how evil Peter is, your father or not. If she wants she can stay with me permanently. It’s not like I don’t have the room. It would make things easier, given the…circumstances.” Lydia makes sweet eyes at her friend.The werecoyote leans in, nuzzling her nose against Lydia’s. “Thank you.”  
A kiss ensues, and all the boys stare with open mouths. Even Derek isn’t immune.  
  
“Even I think that’s hot,” Stiles murmurs.  
The girls break the liplock, Lydia wiping some excess moisture from her mouth. “You guys are pigs.”  
The comment breaks the tension, and almost everyone laughs. Except for Derek. He seems preoccupied.  
  
Scott and Malia discuss details about how to get around and hopefully avoid Peter, when Stiles leans in and whispers something to his wolf. The Alpha rises, hanging his jacket over the chair. “Excuse us a moment.”  
Scott and the others aren’t really paying attention, too busy exchanging details about what Peter might be planning.

_  
  
Stiles leads Derek by the hand to the bathroom off the kitchen, basically pushing him in and closing the door behind them. He doesn’t bother to turn on the light, the werewolf can see him just fine.  
“What couldn’t you tell me in front of them, Stiles?”  
  
The brunette doesn’t speak. One hand cups his lover’s cheek, his soft beard tickling his palm. The other creeps under the Alpha’s v-neck. His fingertips are hungry, they delight in counting every rib, pinching his nipple, until he changes routes and ends up at his wide back, hand sliding lower and lower in the dip until he hits the crevice. The perfectly round mound of flesh beside it becomes Stiles’ play-doh.  
  
The Alpha growls at the contact, a sound shaking them both.  
Derek doesn’t immediately speak since sucking on Stiles’ tongue makes it a bit difficult. The small room is sweltering now with the sultriness of a werewolf and a human in heat, the scent of musk and desire intoxicating, permeating every molecule of air.  
Sourwolf has claws, too, and he’s desperate to use them. Scratches quickly become tugs at the taut, sizzling flesh underneath the boy's shirt.  
Stiles is smaller, but wiry, and he winces in pleasure when Derek’s nails leave bloody marks on his shoulders.  
“So beautiful, my mate…”  
  
The Alpha’s mouth has found new scorching skin to kiss. He locks onto the sensitive mate mark, Stiles’ legs buckling when he starts to lick into it, sucking a new brand onto his lover.  
“Oh fuck, Der. Fuck.” Stiles is so erect now it’s stained the front of his underwear, seeping a bit into the jeans. “I want you. Jesus, so bad.”  
  
Concerns about time got lost somewhere between the kissing and the hickey.  
Derek grabs Stiles’ crotch and squeezes the rod straining against the fabric. His lover bucks into the touch, moaning loudly.  
“Stiles, is this what you want? Here? Now?!” he whispers. “Beg me. Tell me you want my cock.”  
  
Stiles nods as his mouth devours Derek’s. “Now.” _Smack_  “Please” _a suck_ “I need” _a whimper_ “my Alpha’s …ugh…cock.“  
“So you want me to fuck you, angel? Tell me.” Hale’s voice is pure yearning, his hot breath against Stiles’ neck sends electricity through the boy.  
“Yes baby. Fuck me. Fuck me right here, right now. Hard and fast.”  
  
Derek has removed Stiles’ shirts, the t-shirt thrown over the sink and the plaid overshirt hanging limply over a basket.   
Hands fumble with belt buckles in the dark, but the road has been navigated a few times now and without much difficulty Stiles finds himself with his britches around his ankles and an Alpha’s 8-inch cock poking into his tummy.  
Both of their erect members are magnificent. Stiles’ is large but not as big as Derek’s. Both are flush, bleeding pre-cum, the veins pulsating to the naked eye.  
  
“Off, get if off,” Stiles begs, tugging at his lover’s sweater. It joins the clothes that got sprinkled around the tiny room.  
  
“Turn around and bend over,” the Alpha commands. His eyes are glowing red and there’s a bit of fang protruding from above his lips. It takes everything Derek has to not shift fully.  
Stiles does as he’s told, his pants still bunched at his feet. They have to be quick, otherwise it’s too conspicuous.  
  
His lover almost slams him into the divider. He knows his strength and everything is done in measure, but it’s also to get Stiles hot. They haven’t done it like this yet.  
Derek is getting completely into character, also for the benefit of the wolves who are no doubt subjected to what’s happening in here. He doesn’t care, but he’ll sure have fun playing into it.  
  
“Do you want it dirty? Fast? I’m going to finally make you my bitch, Stiles.” He jerks into him, the aching shaft finding the boy’s crack.  
“Oh holy Christ,” exhales the brunette.  
Derek pushes him with his chest, flat against the surface. Stiles finds himself face to the cold wall, cheek to tile.  
Derek is rough, more than he’s ever been. He steps on the trousers that are getting in the way, Stiles pulling off his shoes as they go. He’s the only one completely naked. His dick is so painful, so terse, cooled only a bit by the wall but still on fire.  
  
“There’s nothing holy happening here, baby. Now spread your legs for your Alpha and bend that sweet ass back. ”  
The Alpha doesn’t bother removing his restrictive clothing. He only needs his cock to be free, so pants pulled down enough to liberate him until mid-thigh.  
Derek's incredibly turned on at this point and it’s becoming less of a game and more of a true mating ritual again.  
  
“Ugh…please Der,” Stiles almost weeps. “Please.”  
Derek snaps his teeth. “Now you’ll be quiet. I don’t want to hear a peep out of you or I am going to stop. Nod if you understand?”  
The boy nods.  
“You are going to take my cock and love it. And come only when your Alpha gives you permission. Understood?”  
Stiles nods once more.  
  
“Good. Now relax, baby. Be a good little bitch and I’ll spoil you when we get home.”  
The brunette almost comes when his lover finishes the phrase. He didn’t expect a quickie in his friend’s bathroom to become a role play. Well, not so much play. Derek _is_ an Alpha and Stiles _is_ his mate.  
  
The man behind him no longer speaks. Stiles perceives his breath, feels a drip of spit coat his eager hole, and what can only be the tip of his Alpha’s fat cock circling it.  
Derek doesn’t ask, or warn. He inserts himself into Stiles with an upward thrust, immediately grunting against him.  
The brunette almost speaks but has sealed his lips with all the strength he can muster.  
  
Using his boy's narrow hips for leverage, nails clinging to Stiles’ waist, Derek moves. He bottoms out almost immediately, his lover’s muscle a tight clench around his thick member.     
Everything inside is beauty: wet, heat, and the undescribable sensation of possession. Derek bare’s his fangs just enough, biting into Stiles’ neck like he would a female mate, insisting, blocking him flat against the wall as his cock plunges deeper and deeper into his ass. He's being ravaged, his insides bruising.   
Stiles sheds tears, the mix of pain and pleasure almost too much to bear.   
Derek hangs on by the neck as he continues his relentless thrusts.   
“That’s a good boy, Stiles. So quiet. Following your Alpha’s orders. You feel so amazing, baby. So amazing. That’s my good little bitch.”  
  
Derek pants into his ear, growling once in a while, as he plows him. If anyone were watching, from the back Derek’s movements look almost like art. A perfectly toned body chases its orgasm, tendons and muscles flexing, relaxing, retracting.  
The only thing Stiles wants to do is cry out, groan, _anything._ He manages silence until his lover does one of his signature twists of the hips, hitting his prostate for the fiftieth time, and Stiles’ gives in. He disintegrates.  
The girth, the heat, the rage, it’s all too much.  
  
Stilinski twitches, laments at the top of his voice, and shortly after his dick pumps out a fountain of watery release, the liquid spurting until it drips down the tile wall. It pools at his feet.  
  
Blinded by orgasm, he’s momentarily forgotten the rules.  
Derek grabs him by the neck, pinning him, and snarls. “What did I tell you? You disobeyed. That means no prize. That means when we get home you’re going to get punished.”  
A loud smack echoes and a red handprint appears on Stiles’ right buttock. He whimpers.   
"Now I’m going to finish on your tongue and you will swallow _every last drop_. On your knees.”  
  
Derek accompanies him down by the nape.  
The brunette can’t understand how all this escalated, but he fucking loves it. He’s getting hard again.  
“I want your cock, Alpha. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for talking.”  
  
Derek isn’t listening. His head is thrown back, fangs bared, fist vigorously stroking his cock next to the head, the foreskin pulling and stretching when he chooses to let it slide over his glans.  
“I’m close….fuck….open your mouth wide…stick out your…”  
Stiles obeys this time, wide muscle poised on his lower lip, but Derek’s orgasm doesn’t allow him to finish the phrase in time.  
Fireworks and explosions, cock jerking…Derek doesn’t look where’s he shooting his creamy, ivory jizz. Some gets in his lover’s mouth, most of it ends up on his face.  
  
The Alpha’s riding out the spasms with a series of "ughs" and "fuck yeahs," Stiles' lips hugged snug around the shaft.    
When his breathing has steadied, he opens his eyes to the vision of Stiles eating the cum off his face. His index finger scoops it up, and he licks it as if it were icing for a cake.  
  
Stiles grins. This was the hottest thing EVER.  
Derek leans down, kissing him full on the mouth, lapping up his own spunk mingling with his saliva.  
“Baby, I love you so much,” the wolf whispers. “Such a good boy.”  
The brunette is speechless. He stands, glowing from satisfaction, trying to get dressed but his limbs are quaking.  
“Der – I can’t even – “  
Derek murmurs "Shh." He indicates the direction of the living room with his head.  
  
Stiles pales. “oh SHIT. Do you think they heard?”  
Derek smirks. Of course they heard.  
“Maybe not, Stiles. You were nice and quiet until the end.”  
Bullshit.  
The boy nods. “Right. Yeah. Though we have been gone a long time.” Derek honestly doesn’t care. He’s an Alpha and he’ll satisfy his mate when and where he pleases.  
"It'll be fine."  
It won't, but it's too late now.   
When they’ve cleaned up, and Stiles has wiped the white spray off the wall, they exit.  
  
First the wolf, then the human, step back into the living room.  
Four people sit as if they were dolls posed by children, saucer-eyed and pale.  
  
Isaac barely manages to whisper “Oh my god. I think my ears are bleeding.”  
Malia has her hands on hers. “I’m never going to unhear that.”  
Lydia mouths “I pretty much got a play-by-play.”  
  
And Scott. Scott is on the verge of hysterics.  
“IN THE GUEST BATHROOM?! REALLY?!” He’s stammering nonsense. “I have to tell my Mom that we need to move.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The smut is a little gift to one of my readers, prompted/requested by uglyz88.  
> Dear readers, please comment if you so wish, I'd love to know what you think about this chapter, but also this fic so far.  
> I adore you! Thanks for your loyalty.


	8. Things that go bump in the night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isaac can't sleep, and Coach is irate. (Not at the same time).  
> I still suck at summaries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some Scisaac smut, and more Coach...enjoy.

The silence is deafening but Isaac has no trouble filling it. He’s lying in bed, one hand against his forehead, the other playing invisible piano keys on his broad chest. When he closes his eyes, all the sounds that came from the bathroom earlier that night come flooding back, polluting his mind with lustful thoughts. As if he needed assistance in that department.  
He acted like he was grossed out, but getting fucked by an Alpha… Jesus, the way Derek took Stiles against the tile. He wonders what could be done to him.  
  
“Oh god…” he exhales. The throbbing is getting worse. Much, much worse. It’s a slow, pulsating sensation between his thighs which lives to its own beat.  
Basically, if his dick could scream, it’d be crying out Scott’s name in an even 4/4 time.  
  
Scott. One wall separates them. Two flimsy doors.  
Isaac grumbles and rolls over, his erection twitching against his stomach. His hand creeps down, hovering just above it. He knows once he touches it, it’s over. Something is causing him to hesitate.  
His racing heartbeat thunders in his ears but beneath that he can perceive Scott’s.  
It’s quick. He’s either jerking off or he’s dreaming.  
  
“Fuck it.” Isaac needs to know. He throws off the cover like he throws caution to the wind, without a second thought. He tiptoes out into the hallway and presses an ear to the door. Not that he needs to, he hears perfectly what’s happening inside. It’s just a human habit that’s remained with him.  
The sounds of fabric rustling and low moans reaches his ears and makes his dick twitch again. Scott is inside, probably naked or maybe just in his boxers, manhandling himself.  
  
“Oh Jesus,” he whispers. His mind tricks him, the voice in his ear makes him fantasize that it’s Scott moaning into _him_. The beta licks his lips.  
His knuckles rap gently on the door. “Scott? Are you up?” he whispers.  
No need to raise his voice, the werewolf can hear him just fine.  
The noises halt, and Isaac smiles to himself. He’s envisioning Scott hastening to make himself presentable.  
  
“What’s up, Isaac? You okay?”  
_Not at all._  
Scott sits up in bed, both hands on his crotch. He’s pulled the sheet up but his bulge hasn’t waned one bit. How could it? The subject of his fantasy is standing at his door.  
“Shoot.” He gazes down and then back to the entrance. The Alpha bunches up the sheets in that spot, trying to cover as best as he can.  
Isaac knocks again. “Scott, can I come in?”  
The other wolf sighs. “Yeah, come in.”  
  
The air fills with sounds. The hinge creaks as the beta opens it. His impressive form fills the door before passing through it, and then the lock clicks as his fingers push it shut. There is a lot of heavy werewolf breathing in the background.  
“What’s wrong, Isaac?”  
It’s semi-dark, and Isaac’s wolf eyes trace the outline of Scott’s bare torso onto his mind’s canvas.  
“Jesus he’s magnificent,” he thinks.  
“I had a nightmare.”  
A few more steps and he’s standing at the Alpha’s bedside.  
  
DA-DUM DA-DUM DA-DUM. The racing heartbeats intermingle, impossible to understand whose is whose.  
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Scott swallows hard. The beta has done nothing to hide the erection in his pajama pants, which are also, for the detail-conscious, riding incredibly low on his hips.  
Scott can make out the man-v and it’s doing nothing good for his own bulge.  
Isaac points to the spot next to Scott’s legs. “Can I sit?”  
“Yeah, sure.” Scott has begun to perspire ever so slightly. “What did you dream about?”  
  
Luckily he’s quick on his feet. He spins the tall tale as he lowers himself onto the covers.  
“I was being chased, in my wolf form. Somebody was shooting at me. Then I got injured, and I got put in the freezer as I bled out. It was dark and I couldn’t breathe. It was awful.”  
Untrue in _this_ circumstance but he’s had this one dozens of times. He remembers it vividly.  
  
Scott mistakes his tachycardia for fear and not sexual excitement. One hand leaves his groin and touches Isaac’s forearm.  
“I’m sorry. What you went through, it was horrible. I’m so sorry.”  
The beta stares at the tanned hand, pleasant against his skin.  
The Alpha smiles, his dark eyes wrinkling in the corners. “I’m here, Isaac. You’re in my pack now. I’ll protect you.”  
Isaac nods. “I know, Scott. I know. You make me feel safe.”  
  
The wolf blushes. The lull in speech that follows isn’t uncomfortable. Their eyes meet and the beta draws his legs up onto the mattress, sitting fully. Time to stop playing games.  
“Scott?”  
The Alpha’s got a hunch what’s coming next. The boy is more courageous than he.  
“Yes?”  
“Can I sleep in your bed tonight? I don’t want to be alone.” The tone in Isaac’s voice isn’t libidinous, though he’s extremely turned on. His is a request for tenderness and contact.  
It takes a second for it to register, and Scott doesn’t want to seem too eager. But he agrees. He doesn’t even reply verbally, he simply pulls away the sheet.  
Isaac crawls in, putting himself on his side, propped up onto his elbow.  
Scott slides down, the same height as his beta on the shared pillow, shoulders touching.  
  
What happens next, happens slowly and sweetly. Isaac reaches out, pecking Scott’s cheek scar. The Alpha draws in a breath, his free hand caressing the top of Isaac’s bare shoulder.  
“I like you, Scott,” he whispers.  
“I know. I like you, too, Isaac.” Scott sighs. There. He’s said it.  
The wolf isn’t surprised that Scott likes boys, the sexual tension around him is always thick. Yet he’s never heard him talk about it, let alone admit it.  
“So you’re bi?”  
The Alpha nods.  
“Cool. Me too.”  
“Cool,” Scott mutters, inching closer, his dark eyes studying Isaac’s ruby lips. His top one forms a cute arch, his lower pout full.  
The hand moves from the shoulder to his warm cheek.  
“Kiss me, Scott. Please,” the beta’s appeal barely audible.  
  
Scott doesn’t hesitate. He draws Isaac closer, their mouths sealing. Two wolves run hot, and their bodies emit a glow almost immediately.  
The beta breaks the barrier, seeking entrance. Scott angles in willingly, and finally their tongues dance.  
First one boy hollows his cheeks and then the other follows suit. The Alpha sucks on Isaac’s lower lip and the beta groans, allowing himself to vocalize.  
“You taste so good, Isaac,” he mews.  
  
The kissing becomes sloppy, deliciously dirty. Their lips smack, teeth clash. The breathing through their noses could fog up windows.  
The Alpha’s moans resound in Isaac’s ears, just as he’s dreamed.  
“Oh god, Scott, I’ve wanted to taste you for so long. So sweet, baby.”  
It’s Isaac’s turn. He runs his wetness in a line along the plump lower lip and bites it.  
Scott bucks as he utters a “God yes…don’t stop.” 

Isaac’s fingers dig into the strong back muscles, pulling The Alpha on top of him with insistence.  
Their curious hands lose inhibition as they explore each other’s flesh, kneading and scratching at muscle. Isaac’s splayed hands squeeze the Alpha’s ass, a knee spreading his legs to allow him to fill the void.  
“Need to feel you,” he says as he bites into Scott’s neck.  
“Oh god,” Scott whimpers. Their aching groins grind with slow thrusts of hips. His cock feels so good against Isaac’s. Their sexes fit together so well.  
  
The Alpha moves in time, and Isaac compensates below. It’s delectably slow and deliberate.  
Soft lips part once more and Scott’s tongue dips, the kiss growing deeper almost instantly. As their muscles dance and twist, brush and explore, Isaac’s hungry body inches nearer and nearer to orgasm.   
“Scott, so hot. I’m so close, baby.”  
The Alpha groans, his own cock so painfully stiff for Isaac’s, stimulated further by the young wolf’s own member twitching back into his.  
  
The beta moves quicker, craving friction. “Ohhh my Alpha, harder please” Isaac replies with a hiss. “So close. Make me cum, I beg you.”  
“Oh Jesus.” The Alpha loses control.  
Their cocks drag against the fabric of their underwear, pulling the foreskins back slightly. It’s raw and it’s hot and it’s what both need right now. They continue this way for a while longer until it’s just unbearable.  
  
The unyielding hardness, the hungry burn in their loins…it’s all too much. Scott latches on to Isaac’s clavicle as he swallows down his expletives, eyes shining red as he shifts slightly, dissolving atop his lover with one last thrust.  
Scott laments loudly, “Oh god Ise, oh god…” A second unexpected wave of release pushes him to bite into the creamy flesh of Isaac’s shoulder lest he growl, his fangs breaking the skin.    
“ugh..god help me,” the beta says through gritted teeth.  
  
Hot semen splashes their tight stomachs, the tip of the Alpha’s cock liberated by the shifting fabric. It’s all it takes for the beta to break shortly after. His lover mirrors the moans softly until he too dissolves in a scream.  
“FUCK…oh fuck!”  
Isaac’s orgasm is mind-shattering and his whole body quakes. He’s drunk on it, the liquid seeping so copiously it leaks from the cotton and clings to Scott, staining also the mattress below.  
“Jesus. Holy fuck…” The beta pants, fingers twisted into claws at the back of Scott’s head and back. Also the Alpha is bleeding.  
  
He centers him, mouth mapping from his glistening pout to the hollow of the Alpha’s throat, where he nips lightly. The boys melt into one another until the mutual shaking subsides.  
  
Scott is the first to move, rolling over. The dried stickiness between them makes their pants adhere momentarily. Isaac chuckles.  
Looking down, he decides he can’t sleep like this. He removes his pants and throws them on the floor. Scott grins and does the same.  
It’s funny, they’ve gotten each other off without even seeing the other’s dick.  
  
Isaac’s eyebrows cross as his gaze focuses there. He’s not surprised when he scrutinizes the Alpha.  
“I had a suspicion, I mean I felt it. But Jesus. Impressive. And surprisingly pretty. Cuz sometimes they’re not. At all.”  
Scott allows him to touch it, and it jerks slightly. It’s still moist and red from effort.  
“Sorry,” Scott smirks. “Instinctive reaction.”  
  
The Alpha cocks his head and makes an impressed face as well.   
“Beautiful. You’re very thick, Isaac. I like that. I’m all about girth.” He winks.  
Isaac leans in for a kiss, chuckling. “Excellent. I’m all about length. Perfect match.”  
The Alpha tugs on his beta’s lip a little longer than he should before letting him go.  
  
“I love your mouth, Ise.”  
The beta nods. “I’ve noticed. It’s one of my many positive traits.”  
He shifts, throwing his legs over the bed, when Scott stays his hand.  
“Where are you going?”  
Isaac turns. “To my room. I figured you…”  
Scott shakes his head. “No way, Mister. This wasn’t just a hook-up. As far as I’m concerned you can sleep with me every night.”  
  
“What about Melissa?”  
Scott shrugs. “We won’t tell her until she finds out. She works nights anyway, so just mess up your bed in the morning and I think it will be awhile before she figures it out. I’m sure she’d be happier knowing I’m making love to you than some random stranger. She knows I’ve had sex.”  
Isaac clicks his tongue. “So you suspect we’ll be making love more often, then?”  
Scott tugs on his arms, dragging him back into bed.  
“Your Alpha commands it.”  
Isaac bows his head. “Alright then. I’d never defy my Alpha.”  
  
He rests his head against Scott’s chest, and the boys embrace.  
“I could get used to this, Scott.”  
“Me too,” he replies as he rubs his shoulder. The blood from the bite remains but the fang marks have already healed. “Sorry I bit you.”  
“No problem. It was hot.”  
The Alpha laughs, “Yeah, it was. Boiling.”  
  
Isaac perks up, big blue eyes sparkling. “Earlier, were you… to me?”  
Scott nods. “Big time. Every night now for weeks.”  
“Well, I’m flattered.”  
The Alpha giggles. “It’s my pleasure. You really are irrestistible, you know.”  
The beta blushes.   
  
Isaac thinks he’s being stealthy when his open palm travels down to Scott’s cock.  
“Scott?”  
The Alpha inhales sharply at the touch. Isaac feels him stiffen in response.  
“Yeah?”  
“Wanna go again? This time I want you to…” the rest is a whisper only the Alpha can hear.  
  
- 

Coach is fuming. He’s pacing back and forth, snapping his gum. His whistle sways when he changes direction. He lifts his finger to begin a phrase and then the anger rises and he can’t find the words.  
Scott, Isaac, Danny, and Stiles sit on the bench, half dressed after gym class. The boys exchange glances, shrugging.  
Finally Finstock yells, startling them.  
  
“Unbelievable. UNBELIEVABLE!”  
Scott speaks, thinking that as Captain he has the right. “Did we do something wrong, Coach?”  
Bobby smiles. “You tell me, McCall. You tell me.”  
  
Scott stammers, “I-I dunno.”  
Coach guffaws. “You don’t know. That’s rich. Well let me explain, McCall. Let me see if I can’t make you understand the gravity of the situation.”  
“Um, okay?”  
“SHUT UP MCCALL!”  
The line-up flinches.  
  
“Mahealani. What the hell happened to you? I don’t believe in a million years that Stilinski could do this to you, unless now you’ve progressed to some sort of BDSM.”  
Coach stares at Stiles. “If that’s the case, Stilinski, I have a pamphlet for that, too.”  
Stiles throws his hands up. “Enough with the pamphlets, Coach!”  
Bobby glares back at him, using his pointer finger. “I’ll tell you when there’ll be no more.”  
  
He leans in. “Daniel, care to explain what happened?”  
Danny looks at Stiles and rolls his eyes. “I got into a fight. I’m fine now.”  
Coach laughs. “Yeah, if fine is a busted lip and a broken nose.”  
“It’s not broken, it’s just…”  
“SHUT UP DANNY!”  
  
Coach takes a moment to gather his thoughts. “So, I’ve got a goalie who’s missed three practices due to questionable sexual practices.”  
Danny opens his mouth to protest but Coach shuts him up with one look.  
“Stilinski here has suffered God only knows what damage to his rectum due to his recently misplaced virginity. Ergo, three missed practices.”  
Stiles raises his hand. “Actually today I’m not skipping-“  
  
Finstock is turning a shade of red which looks unhealthy. “Stilinski, I swear on my dead grandmother, if you say one more word…”  
His attention goes to Scott and Isaac, who look exhausted and pale.  
“And then there’s my captain. And Lahey. Lahey comes back for his first practice and has to sit out because he’s TIRED?! And you, Scott. You look like death warmed over. You boys mind telling me what the hell is GOING ON?! Have you lost your minds?! Are you all having orgies every night? And Jesus Christ why didn’t I have such an intense sex life when I was in high school?! I swear to God if I find out that Greenberg is having sex I’m going to kill myself.”  
  
Isaac smirks. “Coach, was that last question rhetorical or would you like an answer?”  
Finstock crosses his arms. “Lahey, while I have missed your skills on the field, I did not miss your attitude.”  
Scott clears his throat, trying to stifle a laugh. “It’s just been a crazy week, Coach. I think I speak for the team when we say we’ll ease up on the…extracurriculars. We just needed to blow off steam.”  
  
Coach seems satisfied with the answer. “Alright, McCall. Alright. But I MEAN IT. STOP HAVING SO MUCH SEX. We’ve got a tournament to play tomorrow.”  
Scott nods. “Yes Coach. Promise.”  
“Good, McCall. Good. Now all of you get out of my sight.” Finstock walks off, mumbling to himself.  
  
The guys burst into laughter moments later. Only Danny looks confused.  
“What’s he talking about? I’m not sleeping with anyone.”  
Stiles pats his shoulder. They’re back on good terms, after Stiles apologized that morning.  
“Long story, Danny. Long story. Don’t worry about it.”

Scott and Isaac are rather chummy, touching each other unnecessarily. After their first encounter which was mostly rutting, their second round was a lot more "intimate."  
Stiles and Danny aren’t dumb and notice immediately.  
Danny’s intrigued. “What’s up with you two? Oh god, are you fucking? Is everyone getting laid but me?”  
  
Scott blushes like a morning rose and Isaac’s expression dead gives it away.  
“This is your fault, Stiles,” Isaac points.   
Deep down Danny kind of dies inside. Didn't Scott tell him it was an experiment? So he's not good enough but Isaac is? Is it because he's human?   
His stoic nature doesn't give it away, but he feels like crying.   
  
“Wha-what did I do? If you guys weren’t really into each other nothing would have happened. Consider me like a Cupid, spreading the love around.”  
Danny chuckles. “If this is spreading love,” he indicates his injuries, “no thanks, Stiles.”  
Stiles frowns. “Danny, I explained what happened. I’m sorry.”  
The goalie nods, hoping Stiles doesn't notice the tears brimming in his eyes. He looks down as he throws his stuff over his shoulders.  
“Yeah, I’m just pulling your chain. Listen, see you guys later, I gotta go. Have fun frolicking, at least someone is getting some,” he says with no lack of bitterness.   
  
They watch him leave as Stiles packs up. The brunette realizes something was a little off. He reminds himself to talk to Danny later.   
  
Isaac leans in and whispers something to Scott, then kisses his neck. Stiles rolls his eyes.  
“Oh god I think I’m gonna be sick.”  
Scott pokes him in the chest. “After making us listen to you get wrecked in my bathroom, you have no room for criticism.”  
“Point taken, Scott," his friend agrees. "Point taken.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, I'm neglecting so many fics to write this one but I just can't stop. Enjoy.  
> As always thanks for your support. Feel free to let me know what you think!


	9. I Quit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles comforts Danny.  
> And for Coach fans, he finally gets some!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you DON'T want to read Finstock smut, just stop at the divider that says SMUT ALERT in bold in the text, once the Stiles/Danny portion is over (which is at the beginning).  
> Happy reading!

Stiles spots Danny going into the bathroom when he gets out of the locker room. Something wasn’t right with him just now and it’s given the brunette an unsettling feeling. He’s got a free period anyway, he might as well check on him. His feet are already taking him there before his brain decides it.  
  
Stiles pulls on the door when the bell rings, a freshman brushing past him on his way out. Only one stall door is closed and for the moment they are alone.  
Stiles can hear sobbing from the end of the room. He checks under the door and those are indeed Danny’s shoes.  
“Danny? You okay, buddy? You seemed a bit off just now.”  
Silence follows except for some light sniffling.  
  
“Danny, I know you’re in here.”  
A lock clicks and his teammate steps out, shoulders slack and expression sullen. Fresh tears stain his tanned cheeks.  
“Leave me alone, Stiles. Please.”  
  
Stiles drops his bag and approaches the goalie. “Danny, you’re crying. I’m not going to leave you alone. You’re my friend.”  
A warm hand squeezes the taller man’s shoulder. At this small amount of unsolicited contact, the boy breaks down again.  
He barely supports himself, back against the wall by the sinks, slinking down until his head is in his lap.  
He cradles it with his large hands and opens the waterworks.  
  
“Oh, Danny…”  
Stiles kneels in front of him and puts one arm around him. “What’s wrong? Come on, tell me.”  
The brunette gives the middle of Danny’s back a gentle rub with his palm.  
The goalie looks up, deep brown eyes glistening with moisture.  
  
“Scott…” he blubbers.  
Stiles figured. After what his best friend told him, it would make sense. He also remembers all the questions Danny had in the locker room the other day about Scott's sexuality.  
“You still have feelings for him, don’t you?”  
The goalie nods, wiping his nose with his sleeve. “I never stopped. I just pretended I didn’t. But deep down, it was there. I just don’t get it, Stiles. He waits this long, tells me he was experimenting, and then hooks up with Isaac? Now they’re all kissy kissy in the locker room?!”  
  
Stiles bites into his lip. This complicates shit.  
“Danny, I don’t know how to explain Scott’s behavior. I know he’s aware of hurting your feelings back then, but he was also very confused, he admitted it to me.  He only came out to me 2 days ago and because I pressed him to. I don’t think any of this has been easy on him. Perhaps Isaac was there at the right time. Plus they live together. They spend so much time under the same roof, being in the same pack. It was kind of inevitable I think, attractions like this grow over time. When Isaac had to go to Eichen last month, I realized that Scott probably had feelings for him. He got nervous and started acting out because he missed him. But this is no reflection on you. That doesn’t mean he feels any less about you, about what you both had. This much I’m sure of.”  
  
Danny counts the tiles on the floor, sulking.  
“Nobody wants me, Stiles. Ever since Ethan left, I am so fucking alone. I miss Jackson, too. I mean he and I never hooked up, but he was my best friend, and he left me. Everyone leaves, and I’m still alone. So horny and so alone. Is it too much to ask to find someone nice to go out with? Hold hands? Cuddle with after sex? I’m sick of one-night stands and even those have been few and far between lately.”  
  
Stiles’ heart is breaking just a bit.  
“Danny, you’re an amazing guy. Maybe this is just a funk. I can’t think of someone like you being single. You’re hot, intelligent, polite, and athletic. What more could a guy want?”  
  
Danny rests his chin on his hands and looks up with puppy eyes. “You didn’t want me, either, Stiles.”  
Stiles grimaces. “Danny, it was only a few days go, if you remember, that I was in your bed, your cock in my hand and your tongue in my mouth. I wanted you. It just wasn’t right because I’m Derek’s mate and I’m in love with him. If I were single, I totally would have. I had a massive crush on you when I was a sophomore, don’t you remember how much I bugged you but you wouldn’t give me the time of day?”  
  
The goalie half-smiles. “Yeah, I do remember that. But in my defense you are way cooler and way hotter now.”  
Stiles giggles, lifting Danny’s chin. He leans in, kissing him on the lips. “I totally would have, Danny. You’re amazing. And I can do some of those things with you, if you want, at least until you feel less lonely. I like hanging out with you no matter what your mood, that will never change. Sure, I can’t help you with the horny part, but I can be your friend, a comfort. Okay? And let Scott have that scarf-wearing asshole, you’ll find someone ten times better. I know it."  
  
The goalie agrees. “Okay, Stiles. Okay. Thank you. Thank you for not leaving.”  
Stiles pats him gently. “That’s what friends do, buddy. Now come on, let’s get you cleaned up and I’ll walk you to your class.”  
  
After splashing his face with water and calming himself, Danny picks up his stuff and takes a deep breath.  
“How do I look?”  
“Like you’ve been crying in the bathroom next to some dude who was rubbing your back.”  
“Awesome,” Danny quips.  
Stiles gives him a thumbs up. “Great. Let’s go.”  
  
The boys step out into the hallway, and Stiles looks up at Danny as he takes him by the hand. The goalie’s eyebrows arch in confusion and Stiles grins in response.  
“Coach told everyone we’re a couple. So I have no problem holding your hand until that changes for you. You just tell me when you don’t want to anymore. Only you and I need to know.”  
“Coach what?! Oh, nevermind." He shakes his head. "You’re really nice, Stiles. You know that?”  
“No, I’m not. But when I care for someone I’ll give them the world.”  
Danny laces his fingers with Stiles’ and squeezes. Stiles walks Danny down the hall, up to the door of the class for which he is now incredibly late.  
The goalie leans in and hugs Stiles. As he pulls back, he pecks him on the cheek.  
“See you at practice, Stiles. And thanks again.”  
“No problem.”  
  
When Danny disappears inside, a second later Scott’s voice startles his friend.  
“Jesus- what are you, a Ninja?! I almost had a heart attack.” Stiles is panting, his hand splayed on his chest.   
“Sorry, werewolf speed.” Scott chuckles. “Listen, that was really nice, what you did for him. I heard everything.”  
Stiles shrugs. “It was nothing, I mean I’ve been there. No one should be alone in heartache.”  
Scott nods and throws his powerful arms round Stiles in a brotherly embrace.   
  
“Yeah, still. It was incredibly sweet. Do you think I need to apologize? I mean, I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. It’s only all coming together now. You know that it wasn’t malicious.”  
“Have you been studying for the SAT? I can’t get used to you using all these big words.”  
The Alpha smirks. “Funny. And yes. But that’s beside the point.”  
  
Stiles takes on a serious tone. “Listen Scott. I wouldn’t right now. Just let him get used to the idea, and then maybe you can talk it over later. He’s hurting too much right now.”  
“Okay, okay. I trust your judgment.”  
Stiles cracks a smile. “So you and scarf-boy, huh?”  
Scott can’t help but laugh. “Yeah, me and scarf-boy. And I’ve got plans for those scarves, too.”  
Stiles shakes off a shiver. “Oh holy god.”

_

Coach is looking for something in his desk, and of course he can’t find it. He slams his finger into the drawer.  
“DAMMIT!” He screams as he sucks on the bruised fingertip.  
Finstock sits back and sighs. “Where did my life go wrong?!” he asks himself.  
  
Bobby has been extra nervous these past few days. The lacrosse team seems to be out of control, his starters all having sex like bunnies. Teenagers are horny by definition but the Coach just doesn’t understand why it’s spread like a fever.  
Normally this wouldn’t bother him, but lately the fact that he’s been alone has begun to weigh on him. It's been so long.  
And he, too, has been hit by whatever is in the air of late. Suddenly even students seem attractive to him. (Thankfully only the seniors, but it’s still disturbing). The last thing he wants, or needs, is to get Mr. Blakes’ reputation. Now _he’s_ a weirdo.  
Coach rubs his eyes when there’s a knock on the door.  
  
“Come in,” he says.   
“What now,” Bobby mutters under his breath.  
  
The door opens and Coach sighs.  
“Oh Jesus, what do you want, Greenberg?! Do you have to bother me on my lunch hour?!”  
  
Greenberg walks in timidly, running a hand through his wavy dark hair. His sharp blue eyes complement his attire, the shirt matching the shade exactly. He’s holding out an envelope.  
  
“Hi Coach. Sorry to bother you. I just wanted to give you this.”  
Bobby stares at the letter. “What is this? What does it say? Don’t make me read on my break.”  
  
The student clears his throat. “It’s just an official communication that I’m quitting lacrosse, Coach.”  
  
Finstock freezes, frowning. “Shut the door, Greenberg, and take a seat.”  
The boy does as instructed.  
In the meantime, Coach has folded his hands on his desk, leaning in. He’s eyeing the envelope.  
  
“What’s this nonsense about you quitting?”  
The boy shrugs. “Coach, I NEVER play. You NEVER put me in. All you do is yell at me and tell me I’m useless.”  
  
“Wha-what?” Bobby stammers. “I don’t play you because you suck, and I yell because you get under my skin. But that doesn’t mean I want you off the team. Don’t you want to be a part of something?”  
The boy sighs. “Part of what? Nobody really talks to me and most of the time I sit on the bench reading a book.”  
Coach looks pensive. He gets up and circles his desk, sitting down on the corner next to his student.  
  
“Listen, Greenberg. It’s not about who plays and who doesn’t. It’s the uniform you put on. Being part of the team. The practices do you good because it’s physical exercise and every win or every loss is also YOUR win and loss. You wear that jersey just like the others. Are you understanding me?”  
Greenberg fidgets with the hem of his shirt. “Yeah, I guess so. I just don’t feel like I’m truly a part of the team. Maybe it’s because I’m older, I dunno.”  
  
Bobby’s pale sky eyes light up. “So you feel ostracized? How old are you again, I lose count of how many times they've held you back?” This time there’s no sarcasm to his tone.  
“I’m almost 20 Coach,” Greenberg replies, hanging his head in shame. “If I don’t graduate this year I’m dropping out.”  
  
“Hey- Hey… listen Adam. You’ve had a rough life. I know what you’ve been through. And I know I put you down a lot, but it’s my defense mechanism. I hope I haven’t been a part of why you struggle to pass.”  
  
Greenberg looks up at Coach through half-lidded eyes. “You called me Adam. You haven’t once used my name.”  
“Yeah, well don’t get used to it.” FInstock has started perspiring.  
Greenberg's tone changes.   
“You know what? I actually enjoy your torture, Coach. I’m such a masochist that I get off on it. But being around you has just become unbearable of late.”  
  
Bobby’s mouth hangs open, and a small ball of heat forms in his stomach. Is Greenberg saying what he thinks he’s saying?  
“Adam, what're you trying to tell me?”  
The young man stands, his thighs touching Coach’s knees.  
  
“I’m in love with you, Coach. Have been for a good two years now. Everytime I signed your birthday cards, LOVE, I meant it. I purposely failed so I could be held back, so I could be around you.  
But lately it’s just too much. You’ve been fawning over Stilinski and it’s like a dagger in my heart. Either something changes or I have to quit. I can’t keep crying every night.”  
  
"You got held back on purpose?! You cry every night? OVER ME?!"  
Bobby’s heart is racing. So many conflicted emotions. Adam is still a student, for a few more months at least, but he’s also 20. More than sufficiently past adult age. This isn't wrong, is it?  
  
"Coach, I know I have father issues but that's not the only reason I fell for you. I like your sense of humor, and you're smart and handsome. You make me laugh, and your making of fun of   
me doesn't hurt me because that means you see me. Nobody sees me but you."   
  
Finstock's soul aches. This beautiful broken boy is in love with HIM.  
He has lied to everyone, and sometimes even himself, but deep down he knows his truth. Coach treated Greenberg badly for years because he sees himself in him. Same troubled past, even similar physical features. He’s pushed his desire down for such a long time out of fear of impropriety.  
Bobby figured the more he hated on him, the more people wouldn’t suspect that he actually loved him.  
  
“Coach?”  
The boy’s declaration pulls him from the wreckage of his loneliness.  
Coach coughs. “Bobby.”  
Greenberg’s expression is anxious and confused. “What?”  
Finstock lowers his voice. “Call me Bobby, Adam.”  
The young man is taken aback. “Why?”  
“Jesus, do I have to spell it out for you, Greenberg? I like you, too. I’ve been in love with the idea of you for two years. I just didn’t suspect, I didn’t think…” he’s babbling.  
  
**SMUT ALERT**  
  
Adam doesn’t let him finish. He grabs Coach’s face, crashing his mouth into his.  
Greenberg’s hands feel so soft and warm against Bobby’s stubble and the Coach can’t contain a moan. It’s been so long since he’s been kissed, touched.  
His hands inch to the boy’s sides, pulling lightly on the fabric.  
  
Bobby angles in, and Adam dips his tongue. When Coach sucks on it, he groans, spreading his legs with his knee to get closer.  
Finstock aches for him, the physical contact opening a flood gate to all his emotions and frustrations.  
Adam pulls him off the desk, running a hand under his shirt, around to his back. He’s testing the waters, fingers exploring lower and lower until they rest on his crevice.  
  
“I want you, Bobby,” he whispers against his lips. “Do you want me?”  
Coach’s stiff cock pressing into Adam’s groin is a fair assumption that he does. He pulls away a moment.  
  
“Are we doing this here, Adam? In my office, on my lunch break? Jesus this is so cliche’.”  
Greenberg’s azure eyes sparkle mischievously. “I’ve fucked you in here a thousand times in my head. What better place?”  
  
Finstock manages a nod. He kisses Adam’s tiny nose, seeking his lips once more. “Okay, Greenberg. Okay.”  
  
The boy’s already undoing Coach’s belt, pulling down his pants and boxers in one tug. He gazes a moment at the thick dick standing to attention. The tip, soaked and dark pink, invites him to suck.  
“Fuck Bobby. It’s a good thing you’re a bottom.”  
  
Coach smirks, taking the compliment. Adam drops to his knees, and before Finstock can say anything else, he’s got all of him in his eager mouth and is nose-deep in the dark patch of pubes in front of him.  
Greenberg isn’t one to waste time.  
  
The Coach is thick, filling Adam’s throat almost completely. His eyes start to water as he licks up and bobs over the length, only to swallow him whole again.  
“Mmm,” he hums over his dick. "So good."  
  
Bobby rakes through his curls, teeth biting into his plump lower lip. “Oh Jesus Greenberg, fuck. Where d'you learn to suck like this?”  
Adam flattens his tongue and swipes a long line down the vein before popping off.  
He stands, leaning in to suck on Coach’s lower lip while he undoes his pants.  
“I fucking love your lip, Coach. I dreamt of doing just this, feeling your flesh in my mouth as I make you whimper.”  
  
So the timid Greenberg is actually very vocal when provoked.  
“Adam, who are you?!”  
Coach is panting by the time Greenberg drops it all.  
“Oh Adam, Jesus. You’re magnificent.”  
Rock hard abs, which have always been hidden under clothing and swift uniform changes, proudly frame his sex. It’s longer than Bobby’s but less thick. The tip is rounded, dark.  
Perfectly manicured black pubes serve as a backdrop. There’s a glistening bead of pre-cum just waiting to be tasted and the admirer licks his lips.  
  
Coach steps forward, grabbing his student’s cock, one hand swiping over the slit. Greenberg hisses as he does it.  
Bobby brings his fingers to his mouth, and he sucks. “Delicious.”  
Five curled fingers grasp Adam by the nape and draw him near.  
  
“Fuck me hard, Adam. Before someone comes in, please. Take me.”  
Coach kiss-walks him to the back of the desk after locking the door.  
He opens the last drawer, “lube and condoms” he breathes.  
Adam nods.  
“Bend over and spread your legs.”  
  
Coach is so used to yelling orders he actually loves being a sub. And to his fantasy man no less.  
“One more thing, Coach. Insult me while I fuck you. It really turns me on.”  
Finstock grins. “You are such a freak, Greenberg. I always knew it.”  
“See, now that’s a start,” Adam beams.  
  
The sound of a bottle top and a wrapper precede the gentle kiss on Finstock’s shoulder before Adam circles his cock on Coach’s opening.  
“I’m putting it in, Bobby. Do you want it? Tell me you want it.”  
It’s all he can do to not come. “Jesus Greenberg, fuck me. Yes, I want it. I beg you.”  
  
That’s all Adam needs to hear. Seconds later Coach feels a searing pain, and then his muscle clenching around the hot member inside him. Greenberg doesn’t ask, he moves.  
“Oh fuck, Greenberg,” Coach utters. “Like that.”  
  
Adam’s arms embrace him from behind, finding the right angle as his thrusts grow more insistent.  
“You’re so useless -ugh- Greenberg,” Coach plays. “I hate you, _FUCK_ Greenberg. Hate ugh you.”  
  
“Yes, Coach, yes,” he breathes, chasing his orgasm. “Yes. Fuck. I don’t know why you hate me, Coach.”  
He impales him and Bobby silences a scream.  
“You” _plunge_ “never” _plunge  “_ play” _plunge_ “ME!” _plunge_  
  
“Put your cock away, Greenberg. You don’t stand a chance,” Finstock says through gritted teeth.   
  
The room echoes the sound of balls slapping against skin and heavy breathing. Adam has found Coach’s prostate and is destroying him. He’s covered Bobby’s mouth from behind with three fingers while he jerks him off with the other hand.  
"I'm close, Adam...fuck...you can't even get me off right...UGH FUCK...SO USELESS!"  
On long upward stab with his cock and Coach cums all over the desk.  
  
Bobby bites into his lover’s hand to quiet his groans, a single tear falling from the corner of his eye. The semen is ropy, off-white, and salty. Adam licks what’s on his hand before kissing Bobby on the mouth.  
The Coach seems possessed. His hair's matted and his lips are ruddy.  
  
“That was pathetic, Greenberg. Pathetic,” he whispers, exhausted.  
Adam smirks. “Was it, Bobby? Maybe I can do it better.”  
The rest sees Bobby at a 90-degree angle, hugging the edges of the desk. Adam is relentless and between the soft moans and the mutual insults, Bobby cums again when Greenberg’s cock throttles inside him.

“Oh FUCK Coach, FUCK. Why are you so mean to me?” he cries when he explodes. He falls onto the older man’s back, spent. Three generous spurts of jizz have filled up the condom.   
  
Bobby reaches back, intertwining his fingers with Adam’s.  
When he slips out, Coach turns around, the second orgasm drying on his stomach.  
He nuzzles into the boy, kissing him once more.  
"Greenberg, I have no words. No words. You are a wonder."   
"You're not so bad yourself, Coach." Greenberg winks, pecking him a few times even when they’ve broken.  
  
He holds up the tied-off condom. “Where?”  
“Basket,” Finstock replies. “I’ll get rid of it in the bathroom later. Have to clean all this mess up anyway. Just cover it with this.”  
Coach hands him the letter he brought.  
Adam grins. “I guess I’m still on the team.”  
Coach guffaws. “On the team?! I’m making you Captain.”  
  
As they get dressed, there’s a comfortable silence. A whole new energy vibrates in the room and for the first time in a long time, Coach is truly happy.  
When both are decent again, Coach calls him over for one last kiss.  
  
“You realize I’m still going to have to be mean to you, Greenberg. Probably more than before.”  
Adam nods. “I’m counting on it.”  
Coach has him wrapped in an embrace, both of them swinging their hips together.  
“Dinner. Tonight. My house. Come by after practice. You and I need to talk about a lot of things. First and foremost how to get you graduated so you can move in with me in summer.”  
“That's quick, Coach. But will do,” Adam beams.  
Finstock frowns. “When we’re alone, it’s Bobby. And I know how I feel about you, Adam. I've already wasted two years pining over you. No more. I plan to wine and dine you until you're no longer a student here, and then to the world we're officially a couple.”  
Their lips graze again.   
“I agree,  _Bobby_. No more wasted time. This is _our_   time now.”  
"Tonight then? 8 o'clock?"  
Greenberg smiles. "I'll be there at 7:59."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I'll admit. Wasn't sure about writing Coach smut, but it turned out better than I thought.  
> Hope you like my version of Greenberg, there's very little info about him in the series so this is my imagination. I also named him Adam because I knew an Adam Greenberg.


	10. Reveal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott tells Stiles what he discovered, and Derek prepares a surprise for his boyfriend.

Stiles balances the phone between his cheek and his shoulder as he packs up his backpack. The line is ringing.   
“Hey gorgeous,” Derek answers. “What’s up?” The sound of traffic disturbs the line.   
“Hey Der-bear. Where are you?” Derek blushes at the pet name.   
“I’m driving through town, had a few errands to run. Everything okay? Peter didn’t show up at the school, did he?”  
The brunette looks around instinctively. “No, not that I know of. Nothing like that. It’s just that Coach cancelled practice, said he wants us to rest before the tournament tomorrow. Also needed to leave early, has a personal engagement or something. I don’t know, I wasn’t really paying attention past ‘cancelled practice.’ Can you come pick me up?”  
The wolf glances to the bags in the back. “Yes, I can do that. Give me 15 minutes?”  
Stiles closes his locker and hooks in the lock. “I’ll wait for you out front, okay bear?”  
“Okay, angel. See you soon.”   
  
It amazes Stiles how easily they have just settled into being together. Into being  _mates_. And it’s only been a few days.  
Remembering his father comes back tomorrow saddens him. He’ll have to return to sleeping at home, and he honestly doesn't want to pass even one night alone anymore. Stiles has become accustomed to those strong werewolf arms around him. Maybe he'll be able to sneak his love in sometimes, or better yet, get away to Derek’s where they have all the privacy they want.   
The brunette is still preoccupied as he checks his messages, making his way to the exit without rushing, his steps slow and deliberate.  
He hears his name being called from the end of the hall. Stiles turns and spots Scott waving to him.

“Stiles, wait up. WAIT UP! I’ve got something to tell you!”  
The brunette puts his phone in his pocket and backs into a locker. Scott weaves through a sea of students before sidling up to his friend.  
“Dude,” he pants, “I have to tell you something.”  
Stiles is curious, he faces the Alpha as he hooks his thumbs into the bag straps.  
“What’s up? Oh god please don’t give me bad news. Is practice back on?” He’s almost whining.  
“No, not that. Just hear me out.”   
It’s obvious that Scott is excited about something.   
“Walk me out, I’ll tell you. I don’t want anyone to hear. You are gonna DIE.”  
  
As soon as the boys are out the door, Scott draws near.   
“Dude, when I found out practice was cancelled I went to the locker room to get my jersey, so I could wash it before tomorrow’s tournament. I went into Coach’s office to ask him if he needed anything before the game, but he wasn’t in there.”  
Stiles has raised a quizzical eyebrow. “And?”  
Scott looks around, making sure no one is in earshot.   
“Dude, COACH HAD SEX IN HIS OFFICE.”   
Stiles gasps. “WHAT?!”  
  
The Alpha nods vehemently. “The smell was thick. One of his desk drawers was still ajar and there was a box of condoms and lube in there. It must have happened just hours before. I'm figuring maybe on Coach's lunch break?”  
Stiles is jumping in place. “Oh my god, who did he fuck?! Another teacher? MR. BLAKE?!”  
Scott shakes his head. “No, Blake’s a pederast. Dude I picked up on TWO smells in the room. Coach’s and… you ready for this? Maybe you should sit down.”   
“JESUS, SCOTT, JUST TELL ME!”  
Scott leans in and whispers “Finstock fucked Greenberg."  
  
Stiles latches on to the Alpha’s shoulder like his life depends on it. “Ho ho ho, oh shit. Are you sure?!”  
Scott smirks.   
“Yeah, sorry, of course you’re sure. Shit. Was it consensual?! Are they just pretending to hate each other?”  
  
His friend shrugs. “I don’t know, but Coach doesn’t strike me as a rapey type. I’m pretty sure they both agreed. Also Greenberg is like 20 so he knows what he wants. He’s quiet but it’s always the quiet ones, right?!"  
Stiles brings his hands to his head and mimics a bomb exploding.  
“My mind is blown. Blown. Dude, you’ve made my day. Man. Greenberg, you sly dog." He beats his fists on Scott’s chest in excitement.  
  
As they’re still gossiping, Derek pulls up in his Camaro, top down. Despite the brisk weather he likes to feel the wind on his face.   
“Hey angel,” he calls out.   
The brunette looks over. Derek probably couldn’t look hotter if he tried. He’s sporting black Ray Ban aviators and of course, his leather jacket which looks painted on.  
That perfect row of white teeth he's shining at them does Stiles in every time. Just enough canine protruding to make you want to tease them with your tongue. Which he does every time he can.  
Even Scott is taken aback.   
"He's easy on the eyes, isn't he?" The Alpha says to himself, feeling rather inadequate.   
Stiles grins. "Yup, and he's mine Scotty boy. All mine." He pats his shoulder.   
  
"More on this tomorrow," the brunette walks backwards to Derek's car, index fingers pointing at Scott. "Best news ever dude. You made my day."   
"Stiles be caref-" Scott doesn't finish the sentence. It's too late. Stiles trips over a bike rack, and Derek face palms.   
"I'm okay I'm okay," he waves from down on the ground, flailing his arms. 

Scott giggles, shaking his head as he runs over. Derek is now leaning out the door, chin poised on his forearm.   
"How does he survive without you, Scott?"   
The Alpha mouths "I don't know.”  
  
His best friend extends him a helping hand and lifts the brunette up.    
"Thanks, bro."  
"No problem. Hey Stiles, don't tell anyone, okay? Let the other wolves figure it out, if they do at all. I don't want Coach to get in trouble or something."  
"You understand I'm telling Derek, right?"  
"Well yeah. Spousal privilege. I'm so telling Isaac."  
They both laugh. "All right dude. See you tomorrow," he utters as the Alpha takes off in the other direction.

Stiles saunters over to the car, trying to recuperate a bit of pride from the earlier fall. He leans in for a smooch.  
Derek makes it extra sloppy, finishing with a suck on his lower lip. The brunette smiles against him.   
"You really like to do that, don't you?"  
Derek, beaming, does it one more time.  
"Yes, I really, really do."   
Stiles is blushing. He rounds the car and gets in, eyeing the bags in the back.  
"What are those?" he says as he puts on his seatbelt.    
"Those, my love, are your surprise."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter...Sterek date night!


	11. Sterek Date Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The guys finally get to go on a date. Thanks to Coach for cancelling practice and giving them a little more time to spend together.

"My surprise?!"  
Stiles’ curiosity is getting the best of him. He reaches back, grabbing at one of the colored sacks, but Derek swats his hand away.   
"Nuh-uh. Surprise means no peeking."  
The boy pouts. "You're a party pooper, Hale."

Derek chuckles, reaching over to nudge Stiles’ leg. "Stop being a baby. It’ll be worth it, I promise.  Look, we've never had a real date, Stiles. Today’s Friday, you don't have practice, and I’ve been planning this for a couple days now. Just let me drive this."  
"A date? We're going on a date?!" The brunette makes an "aww" face and leans in to kiss the wolf on his scruffy cheek. "You are the sweetest boyfriend ever."  
Derek grins, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, I know. I kinda rock."  
"Sooooo, where are we going?" Stiles is hopping in his seat, hands drumming on his knees.   
"Have you taken your meds today?" Derek side glances him and smiles tight-lipped, like he's swallowed a precious secret. He can’t wait for Stiles to see what he’s orchestrated.

"I'm fine. I'm just excited. Where are we going?! Come on, give me a clue!" the boy begs.  
"You’ll see. You'll just have to wait, angel."

The brunette’s legs quake. He isn't the best person when it comes to biding his time. His gaze darts around nervously.  
The wolf seems to be driving them out of town since the car is going in the opposite direction of the loft. Stiles distracts himself by telling Derek the theory on Coach and Greenberg sexing each other. His lover can't contain his laughter.   
"Oh my God, I can imagine him bent over his desk. Dude is a total bottom."  
Stiles grimaces. "Thanks for that image. Also, what’s wrong with being a bottom? If we were all tops, it’d be a little complicated my friend."  
"I didn’t mean it negatively. I love my sexy bottom."  
Stiles winces at the phrase. “Okay, I know what you mean but it came out sounding really wrong.”  
The car fills with roaring amusement.  
  
“So Scott caught the scent?"  
"Yeah," Stiles confirms. “Coach left the door open, and he went in looking for him. Hopefully now that he's getting some Coach will calm down."  
Derek snickers. "Doubt it, that guy has always been highly strung. I bet he blows that fucking whistle during sex, too."  
The brunette lifts a finger in the air. “Okay now you’re seriously going to make me vomit.”  
  
Stiles leans toward the glass. His eyes take in the scenery and slowly light up in familiarity.  Derek’s taken another route, but he recognizes it.  
"Wait, this is your property." The burned-down house comes into view shortly after.   
"It is."  
"So our date's at the site of your family home’s rubble. Romantic."  
  
Derek's head tilts to the side. "Don't be a smartass, Stiles. Our date is what is beyond the charred house. The surprise is in the woods. I was thinking of taking you to a restaurant but that seemed lame, plus I want you all to myself. At least here I know no one will disturb us, and I wanted our first official date to be special. Come on, I'll show you what I’ve been working on."  
"Are you taking me into the woods to eat me? Cuz I know how this story goes, Der."  
The Alpha smirks. "Are you kidding me? Get out of the car, Stiles."  
Derek is excited for Stiles to see what he's prepared.   
  
The boys exit the vehicle and Stiles unpacks, lining up the shoppers on the ground. Derek slings a round container over his shoulder and folds a blanket from the trunk.  
"I think that's everything, Der," he says as he surveys the ground.  
"Great, then follow me.”  
They each grab a couple bags, and as the wolf leads the way, Stiles peels back the tissue paper in one of the packets. The contents reveal several little colored packages, some of which emit a delicious scent. 

"So what's all this?" the brunette sniffs.  
"This, my curious angel, is an exquisite meal that we're going to enjoy shortly. And then there are also a couple other things. In due time, my love. In due time."

As they walk deeper into the woods, past the site of the Hale home, Stiles notices flickering lights and some kind of structure by a clearing.  
It's an off-white party tent, with a clear top. The roof canopy is lined with flowers and ribbons, framed by twinkle lights. White paper lanterns hang on the neighboring trees.

Styles' mouth hangs open, wideing in utter astonishment the closer they get. Derek smiles to himself when he sees the positive reaction.  
As they get reach the tent, the boy runs up to the clear window and peers inside.   
Within, Derek has set up a table for two with candles and beautiful place settings.  At the back there's a gorgeous white settee.

Stiles is taken completely aback, mesmerized by his love's initiative. He'd like to speak but nothing comes out of his mouth.

Derek grins. "Do you like it?"  
Stiles is beyond words, mouthing them several times before they actually escape his lips.  
"I love it. Oh my God, bear. All this for me?" he stammers.   
"Of course. All this for you."  
"When did you do this?!"  
"Today, while you were in school. I didn't have time to cook, so I ordered food from my favourite place. That's where I was when you called. I got a hand with the rest."  
  
Stiles cocks an eyebrow. "You got help from Lydia, didn't you?"  
The wolf doesn't deny it.  "Yeah, I'm not exactly the type to host dinner parties. So I borrowed a few things from Lydia. She is the best party planner in Beacon Hills, right? I did the rest myself."  
"Der, I don't even know what to say."  
"Don't say anything. Let's go in and enjoy it all before it gets cold. I was expecting you later but I'm pretty sure you can eat now, too."  
"Yeah, I'm starving actually."

Derek pulls open the flaps and ushers Stiles in. "After you, angel."  
It's warmer inside than in the brisk late afternoon temp of the woods, the small generator that’s running the lights is also fueling the heater that the wolf turns on for them.   
  
"It should warm the space in a bit, Stiles. If you're cold I brought the blanket, too."  
"I'm good, Der." The brunette wraps his arms around Derek's waist and squeezes.   
"You're the only heat I need, my big wolf. You're a constant wonder, you know that?"  
  
The wolf reddens slightly, kissing the tip of Stiles' nose.   
"I'd give you the world, angel. I like to see your surprised face. You look like a kid at Christmas."  
"You've outdone yourself."  
"It's better than a restaurant in town, isn't it?"  
"For sure,” Stiles whispers. "I can't believe you did all this."  
The wolf takes him by the hand, guiding him to the table.  
“Come on, let’s eat.”

The brunette helps to unbox the food and plate it while Derek puts on some music.   
It's not dark yet, but the twinkle lights and candles give a warm glow to the makeshift room. Derek steps out for a moment and lights the paper lanterns as well, the woods surrounding them breathing a suggestive air.   
Who would have guessed that the brooding sourwolf would have it in him to set up a little fairy wonderland, regaling Stiles with this romantic evening?

Derek returns and closes the tent, finding the food already arranged nicely.   
"Wow, Stiles. This is beautiful."  
"Thanks," the brunette replies, proud of his work. "I watch Masterchef. However, I don't know what half this stuff is. My staple foods are canned tomato soup and peanut butter sandwiches, especially when my Dad works nights. So I've gone strictly by aesthetic."  
The wolf chuckles. "It's okay, I'll explain whatever you don't understand. Most of this food is Finnish traditional cuisine."  
"Finnish what?!"  
"Haha, just try it. You'll love it."

They take their places at the table, and the Alpha removes the paper from the bottle of champagne that he’s been keeping cold in the round wine cooler.  
"I know you're not allowed, but what's one more law to break at this point? One or two glasses won't hurt. I feel like celebrating."  
"I've drunk alcohol before, Derek." Stiles is trying to sound older, lowering his voice by a tone.   
  
The Alpha throws him a whimsical stare.  
"Yeah, I'm sure you have. But I don't want to be blamed later for leading you astray."  
Stiles holds out his glass. "I think we're way past astray at this point."  
"True."  
Derek fills their glasses, and they clink them together in a toast. Stiles places his free hand over his mate’s.  
“To us.”  
“To us, bear.”  
After a couple sips, the Alpha points to the plate. “Food. Before it gets even colder.”  
  
As they begin eating, every other phrase from Stiles is "What's this?" He's been pointing at things on his plate until Derek gives up and details the dish.  
"That's reindeer meat, Stiles." The boy's fork hovers above it.   
"Reindeer, like Rudolph the Red-Nosed?"   
"Well, that's a fictional reindeer, but yes. It's a delicacy in Nordic countries. I like meat if you haven't noticed."  
Stiles smirks. "Oh, I've noticed."  
Derek chuckles "Haha, very funny."  
"You just gave me that one sooo easily."  
  
The wolf waits to swallow his bite before continuing. “So basically this is sauteed reindeer with mashed potatoes, lingonberry jam and pickles. These are pickled beetroot and mushrooms. And _Svartbröd_   or black bread.”  
Stiles shakes his head. “I pegged you more for a steak and beer kind of guy. Not Nordic food and champagne. Sometimes I think I don’t know Derek Hale like I thought. And I mean that in the best way possible.”  
“I like to keep you guessing, baby” the wolf winks. Stiles pretty much swoons.  
  
"So, how have you been with all this? I know things moved very quickly, especially after our first night together. It's kinda weird for me, I've fallen into this, like it's always been a fact. I don't know if you get what I mean; Derek. What I'm trying to say is I feel like we've been a couple since forever, not a handful of days."

Derek breaks off a piece of black bread and reflects.  
"Stiles, for me nothing about this was quick. I knew I'd love you when we met, that you were my mate. It just had to be the right time. In fact, I was going to wait a little longer, but as I told you that first night, I just couldn't. Not when I wanted to be with you so badly. I took it as a sign of Fate when your dad went to that training in Quantico. I figured he'd tell you to sleep at Scott's, but with Isaac living there already you'd have to camp out on somebody's floor, or worse yet, share a bed with one of those two. To be honest, I got a little jealous. I didn’t want to lose you to one of them. So that's why I made my move. I knew we had a rocky relationship at first, so I didn’t expect you to accept. I had a hope, and I noticed the way you looked at me sometimes."

"I'm glad you asked, Der. I thought it was an odd request since Isaac was at Eichen, but you insisted so much. Of course secretly I wanted you to make a move."  
The Alpha mocks himself without hesitation. "I am nothing if not persistent. And I didn't know when Isaac would be coming back, I mean I couldn't take that chance either way."  
  
Stiles acknowledges the truth. "I admit I didn’t like you much at first. That was evident between us. But then you were always so angry, and that was hot, and you're too fucking gorgeous for your own good. And I just lost myself in you. I mean with all the shit that went down it wasn’t long before I fell for you. It was something I hid, but I knew deep down you were the one I wanted. When you asked me to stay over… oh my God. I spent the entire day shaking in anticipation. I think I nervous peed 10 times.  Then you put me on the couch and my heart sank.”  
  
“Well, I couldn’t really come out and say ‘sleep with me, Stiles’ could I? That wouldn’t have been very slick.”  
“Guess not, also because if you had, my heart probably would have stopped. Kind of like it did when you finally beckoned me to your bed.”  
  
Derek inches forward in his chair, Stiles meeting him halfway with his lips stained purple with jam. When they kiss, the wolf licks it away.  
"And that was the most fun I've had in a very, very long time. So how's your food, angel?"  
"You know what, Rudolph is pretty tasty." Stiles giggles. “Hey, you know that Isaac and Scott are together now? I guess it happened the night we had our little fun in his bathroom. I think it might have lit a fire under a few people."  
"That was memorable to say the least."  
"Memorable is one word to describe it, yes. I’d also use insanely sizzling. It kinda turns me on when you tell me what to do."  
  
His lover smiles slyly. “So a daddy kink, huh?”  
Stiles almost chokes on his reindeer. He turns red in the face from coughing until the piece goes down.  
“Um, NO. Please don’t ever say daddy kink again. Jesus. Let’s say I have an…Alpha kink. I like it when my _Alpha_ tells me what to do.”  
“I see. So this is when I segway with another little gift, appropriate to our convo.”  
  
The Alpha pulls a square, black box from underneath his chair and hands it to Stiles.  
“When did you put that there?” Stiles looks under the table.  
“Werewolf stealth. Open it.”  
  
The brunette balances it on his knees, biting into his lower lip as he lifts the box top. When he sees what’s inside, his tongue clucks against the top of his mouth.  
“Oh my god. Are you serious?”  
“Come on, is it that predictable? Boring? I thought we'd start small.”  
“No, I kind of figured this would be the next step, to be honest. This is actually perfectly kinky for being in a relationship with you for a week.”  
  
Inside, nestled on a purple satin pillow, are handcuffs, (real ones), a collar with a metal hoop, a leash, and silk scarves. There’s also a translucent bag.  
Stiles pulls open the strings and his fingers remove a pair of red lace underwear from its belly. Womens underwear. He blushes just the slightest bit.  
  
“I really, _really_   want to see you in these. Your erect cock straining against the lace. Jesus, I’m getting hard only talking about it.”  
  
The brunette thumbs the flimsy material. Derek’s eyebrows furrow in worry when he doesn't speak.  
“Oh god, you don’t find this humiliating, do you? I’m sorry. I should have asked first.”  
Stiles grins from ear to ear. “Der- Der. You’re fine. I love it. All of it. I’d do anything with you, for you. I'm a little shocked at the dog collar, but.. _.I'm kidding._ Come here.”  
  
They kiss, this time a little more deeply than before. Stiles dips his tongue repeatedly, a little groan escaping Derek. He lingers, toying with his lover's lower lip before releasing him.  
The boy moans at the missing contact.  
“Jesus you turn me on, Stiles. It’s something in your scent, your skin. I can’t keep my hands off of you.”  
The brunette puts the top back on the box and finds a spot near his chair where to lay it down.  
“I won’t even tell you what you do to me, Der. They’d probably lock me up again. You know, I could have saved you money. We could have asked Isaac for the scarves.”  
A sexually fueled moment turns into belly-laughing.  
  
"So, Scott and Isaac, huh? You know what, I can see it." Derek pours more champagne.  
"Yeah. They seem happy, but of course they’ve been together all of a day," Stiles ponders.  
The Alpha shrugs, finishing off the wine in his glass. "It doesn't matter. When two people belong together, that's all that counts. I think they'll be good for each other. Isaac needs someone to give him an idea of stability, especially after what he went through with his father. It was extremely sweet of Melissa to take him in. Like you've done with Malia."  
He shakes his head, the knowledge of what Isaac suffered painting an awful picture in the foreground of his mind.  
"Yeah, I get that. What father could do that to his kid, break him like that?! I rag on him a lot, but he's really an okay guy. I just won't admit it to his face."  
  
Derek chuckles, though his face darkens. "So, speaking of homes. Your Dad coming back tomorrow?"  
Stiles nods. "Yeah. I'm really sad. I mean I've missed him, but you know what that means. I'm going to have to go back to sleeping there. Will be fun trying to sneak around. I mean, maybe it'll make it all hotter, but it's gonna suck to not spend as much time with you. I want to be with you, Derek, and I don't see why I can't. It's so frustrating."  
  
"Well, in his defense, the man left a week ago and you were single. And a virgin. He'll come back to find you mated and deflowered. It's going to be a shock for him, too. He’ll need time to adjust. He’s also not my biggest fan, so fingers crossed he doesn’t come after me with a shotgun."  
"I guess. He won’t be expecting it for sure. Still, he wants to see me happy. If I say I want you, he won’t be able to object. I’m 18 in a month, anyway. I just wish it didn't have to be this way for the moment."  
"What if it doesn't?"  
"What do you mean? Short of running away, Der, I don't see how-"

Derek clears his throat, stacking his cutlery on the empty plate.  
The wolf stands, fills his broad chest with a deep breath, and takes a knee.  
  
The realization of what is about to happen forces Stiles’ reaction, morphing his face.  
“Oh my god oh my god” he says under his shallow breath.  
A small velvet box appears in Derek’s palm. Stiles completely freaks out.   
"Oh my god what is happening what are you doing oh my god!" One hand covers his mouth as he squeals.  
  
Derek looks up at Stiles, pale green eyes moist. His expression is soft and charged with sentiment, but there’s also a hint of terror in his gaze.  
  
"Stiles, I'm not good with words, but I'm gonna try.  My life has changed completely over the past few days. I've found in you a mate, a best friend, and a lover. I was alone for a long time, because I thought I didn’t deserve happiness, companionship. I know now what it means to fall asleep next to you and to wake with you in my arms. I don't want there to be another night apart for us. I don't want to wake up in a cold bed ever again. We should be together, live together, because we belong together. And like I've chosen you as my life mate, I'm choosing you as my husband. I want to be able to go to your father tomorrow and tell him that we're getting married, and that I am taking my fiancé home with me. I love you and I don't want to wait for anything else to come between us. Mieczyslaw Stilinski, would you do me the honor of being my husband? Will you marry me, Stiles?"  
  
Derek pops open the box, revealing an antique ring with the Hale family seal inscribed into it. He offers it to Stiles, poised between two shaky fingers.   
"Yes, oh my god, yes Derek I'l marry you," the brunette replies, speech choppy. A couple tears escape down his cheeks.   
  
Derek nods, trying to calm the pounding in his chest. " **Ja cię kocham** , Stiles," he declares.  
"Oh my god, you said in Polish! Kocham cię  **misiu**!" the boy replies.  
  
The wolf slips the ring on Stiles' finger and pulls him in by his chin. Their supple lips melt together, Stiles cupping Derek’s face.  
“Jesus, I love you, Der.”  
The ring twirls on his finger, running a little big. Derek steals his hand, kissing the palm.  
  
"I know you're not one for rings, Stiles. But it was my grandfather's. If you'd like to wear it, I'll get it sized, otherwise there is a chain in the box. You can wear it around your neck."  
The brunette insists. “No, I want to wear it. I want the whole world to know I’m marrying you.”  
“Okay, angel. Okay.” The wolf is absolutely beaming, his moss eyes sparkling in delight.    
  
“I’ll get it done tomorrow morning, that way when I take you back to your Dad’s you’ll have it on. I know this is all sudden, and perhaps crazy. No, for sure it's crazy. But I just can’t live without you. I can’t. The thought of you not sleeping in my bed this weekend made me insane with sadness. For me, having chosen you as my mate is the most important thing. But if marriage is a necessary formality, also to prove to your father that I am serious about us, then so be it.”  
  
“It is crazy," Stiles pants, "but you and I are crazy. This whole situation is crazy. And I love it. I love you, _misiu_.”  
“What’s that word mean, misiu?” The wolf asks, having never heard it before.  
Stiles giggles. “It means teddy bear in Polish. You’re my der-bear. My _misiu_.”  
  
“I love it. I love you.” Derek steeples his hands. “Tomorrow is going to be a big day, Stiles. I won’t lie when I tell you I’m nervous.”  
Stiles exhales loudly. “I know, me too. But then again, what can my Dad do? Forbid it? I’ll be an adult in a month and can emancipate myself fully if that's what it takes. It’ll be okay. It will.”  
“Hope so,” sighs the wolf.  
“Don’t worry. I’m yours, Der. Forever.”  
  
The moment is broken by a text message alert vibrating in Derek’s pocket.  
“Ugh, now what?!” the Alpha slides it out from his jacket.  
“It’s always something,” Stiles laments. "It's probably Scott. The boy has timing..."  
The screen flashes, a couple lines appearing.  
“It’s Scott” they read in unison.   
  
**Derek, your uncle went to see the warlock, Deaton is sure. He's going to talk to him, find out what he wanted.**  
 **He might be at the game tomorrow so you guys be careful, he’s still trying to**  
 **get in touch with Malia.**  
  
Stiles looks up at the ceiling and whispers “Awesome. Nothing like fresh drama.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I am behind on other fic updates, so forgive me. As inspiration strikes I will be adding chapters to those.  
> thanks for all the amazing support!


	12. Victory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Derek inform the Sheriff of their engagement.   
> Later, Coach congratulates the team on their victory.

“So what happened now? Who’s missing? Are you going to Mexico again?” Noah is sitting on the recliner rubbing his temples. “Jesus, I’ve only been gone a week!”  
Stiles stands in the living room, eyes locked with his father. “Dad… Dad. Calm down. Nothing bad has happened. Well, not yet. Peter Hale  _is_ in town and talking to a warlock so that’s potentially worrisome, but as far as–“  
“Stiles!”  
“Yes, Dad?”  
“If everything is okay, why are you and Derek standing there looking terrified? And why are your bags packed?”  
  
The sheriff notices the new addition, a signet ring on Stiles’ left hand. It’s identical to the one the wolf is wearing. He says nothing, a suspicion building about what might be happening here. Noah’s seen his son study the ceiling instead of doing homework enough times now to figure out that he has a crush on someone. He never expected it to be Derek Hale though. How old is this kid again, anyway?  
  
“Dad, I have to tell you something.”  
Derek folds Stiles’ hand into his and they both sit down on the sofa, directly opposite the Sheriff. Noah’s gaze rests on their locked appendages a moment before looking up at Stiles.   
“WE have to tell you something, sir.”  
  
The sheriff grimaces. “Sir? This must be serious. Okay boys, I’m tired and need a nap. Just come out with it. Is someone pregnant?”  
The lovers exchange a glance and Stiles chuckles. “Dad, I’m gay. Nobody’s pregnant. Look, I know it’s only been a week, but a lot of stuff has happened since you left. Like, a buttload of stuff.”  
Derek face palms. “Really, Stiles? Buttload? You think that’s an appropriate word to use right now?” he whispers.   
  
Stiles laughs. “Oh shit, you’re right. My bad.” He clears his throat, directing his attention back to his father, who is looking increasingly annoyed.   
“Dad, this week Derek and I, um…”  
The Alpha’s had enough. “Oh good god. Sir, if I may. Your son and I have had feelings for each other for a while. When Scott couldn’t properly host Stiles due to another engagement, he stayed with me. During which time…”  
The sheriff raises his hand. “Please, Derek, spare me the details. I think I understand. Stiles, you and Mr. Hale are now boyfriends, correct? You’ve started dating?”  
  
Stiles nods, about to protest a detail, finger aloft. “It’s a little more than…”  
Derek agrees. “Sir, it’s gone beyond that. I’ve, um, mated him.”  
Noah scowls. “Oh god, boys. I said I don’t want details.”  
Derek shakes his head. “No, not like that, sir. Well, also like that, but…”  
Stiles interrupts before things get worse. “Dad, mating in this context means that he’s chosen me as a life partner. Basically Derek and I are… werewolf married? Well, except he’s the werewolf and I’m human and-”  
  
“Stiles,” Derek dips his head, “Quit it. Sir, last night, as a show of how much he means to me, and of how serious I am about us, I also officially proposed. Stiles accepted. His bag is packed because we’d like to ask your permission for him to move in with me.”  
The Sheriff sighs deeply, slumping back into the chair. He was expecting a little high school crush… but mating? Marriage?  
“Derek, you do realize my son is 17 and a senior in  _high school_? That this could constitute, in theory –“  
  
The werewolf leans in, waving desperately. “Sir, before you say those two very ugly words, we want you to know that this has been completely consensual and that Stiles will be 18 in 3 weeks. Many people have been mated this early. It’s something…normal for us.”  
Noah laces his fingers together above his nose. “For the love of God, boys, please stop using the word _mated_. Anyway, yes. I do understand it’s consensual. But what I’m trying to make you see is that he’s barely a man, and you’re asking me to allow him to leave the family home and move in with a _werewolf_? No offense.”  
“An Alpha werewolf, Dad,” Stiles chimes in.   
“Stiles, not helping,” the Sheriff glares back.

 Though he’d like to continue to challenge this, Noah knows Derek Hale and he knows his son. He gave up trying to control him ages ago.   
“Derek, do you love him?” the Sheriff asks, light green eyes searching Derek’s darker ones.   
The Alpha squeezes his lover’s hand. “His life means more to me than my own.”  
Noah’s heart actually breaks a little. He remembers when he felt that way about Claudia. It was such a long time ago, an all-consuming feeling of loneliness has since crept its way into his soul and it’s incredibly sad. He doesn’t want to deny Stiles this. He would never want his boy to feel this miserable.   
“Son, I’m assuming you feel the same? You love him?” his voice trembles just a bit as he asks.  
The brunette touches Derek’s forearm. “Yes. I love him so much it’s hard to breathe, Dad.”  
  
Noah has resigned himself to acceptance. The two men know what they want and wouldn’t listen to reason, anyway.   
“Okay. Fine. Who amI to break up a happy couple? You can go, Stiles. But on two conditions.”  
Stiles smiles, crossing over to hug his Dad. “Sure, anything Dad. Anything.”  
The sheriff points at Derek. “You both have to come over for dinner at least once a week.”  
The Alpha grins. “Done.”   
“And…take care of each other. Derek, if you hurt him in any way I will use every means available to me to put you down. This boy is all I got. Do you understand?”  
“Yes, sir. Fully. He’s my ma- my spouse. I’m responsible for him now, I’m his Alpha. If something happens to me, it happens to him and vice versa. I’m going to love him and protect him, I promise.”   
Derek Hale offers a handshake, but the Sheriff stands and pulls them both in for a hug.   
“Good enough for me. Congratulations, sons. Derek, welcome to the family.”   
Both men are absolutely beaming. Stiles mouths “Told you.”   
  
“So, when is the wedding?”   
“Well, since we’re werewolf married now, it’s not much of an immediate priority. But we’re thinking…”  
“June,” they say in unison.   
Noah shakes his head, chuckling. “Jesus, you even think the same thoughts now. I leave you alone for a week, Stiles.”  
Stiles fake frowns.   
“I’m kidding. I’m happy for you. And I’m happy to gain a son. This family needed to grow.”

 

\--

**Locker Room, after the tournament**

  
Coach is pacing back and forth, a huge grin on his face.   
“Boys. I don’t know what to say. You were magnificent out there! Magnificent! I am so proud of you. So proud! You’ve managed to bring a tear to Coach’s eye.”  
Most of the team is still getting changed, a general mood of celebration hanging in the air.   
Scott, Isaac, and Stiles are observing Coach’s behaviour with Greenberg. Finstock makes it a point to not look in his direction, but he can feel the boy’s eyes on him.   
“Everybody did a great job. Honestly, Scott you were on fire today.”  
McCall nods. “Thanks, Coach. We all did great. Even Greenberg got to play.”  He’s setting him up for failure. Stiles is trying to keep the smirk contained, but he’s not successful.    
Coach glances at Adam, looking away almost immediately. “Yeah, Greenberg. You’ll never hear me say it again so listen up. You weren’t as useless as you usually are.”  
“Thanks, Coach. I-“  
“That’s enough, Greenberg. I didn’t say I wanted a speech.”   
Adam isn’t faking the disappointment that’s shadowed his face. He's still in uniform, nursing an energy drink.  
  
Isaac whispers to Stiles as he pulls his shirt over his head. “They are so fucking. I can smell it all the way over here. Look at the way he’s looking at him. This will be all over the school by the end of the week.”   
Danny’s ears perk up. “Who’s fucking?”  
Scott leans in and says it through gritted teeth. “Shh. Coach and Greenberg. I caught the scent on Friday. They fucked in his office. Don’t tell anyone.”  
The goalie guffaws, looking over at Adam. “No way! Oh my god! I thought they hated each other.”   
Stiles finishes tying his shoes and interjects a snort. “Nah, it’s all an act.” Danny shakes his head slowly in disbelief. “Jesus, even Greenberg is getting laid. Am I the only one not fucking?”  
The remaining three boys answer at the same time: “Yes.”   
“I hate you guys,” replies the goalie.  
  
“Hey, listen up. I’ve got news. You guys wanna celebrate one more thing?” Stiles pulls out Derek’s ring.   
Isaac rakes his hand through his curls and leans in to get a better look. “What is that?”  
The Alpha realizes what it means and interrupts before his friend can say it. “NO WAY! You got engaged! That’s the Hale signet!”  
  
Stiles frowns and punches him on the shoulder. “Way to steal my thunder, Scott. Yes, Derek and I got engaged last night. Dude, it was the most romantic thing ever.”   
Danny and Isaac congratulate him, Scott suggesting they do something together. “Bring Derek over to my house, we’ll make it an evening. Danny, you in, too?”  
The goalie is still hurting. Just seeing Scott and Isaac together pains him tremendously.   
“No, I’m busy,” he lies. “I’m sorry Stiles. Maybe you and I can do something one of these days. You four have fun.”   
  
Danny gathers his things and walks off, head hanging low. The Alpha feels horrible, he can see that Danny is visibly upset. He’s tempted to stop him and try to talk it out, but Stiles gives him a signal not to.   
“Leave it, Scott.”  
Isaac is confused, eyes darting from his lover to the back of the goalie's head. He doesn’t say anything as it’s obviously something between him and Scott, but he's wondering, were they lovers or something? There’s an itchy suspicion forming in his mind.  
Scott gives Isaac a worried look but doesn't elaborate.  
  
“Okay then. 8 o’clock? My mom is working the night shift again so we’ll have the house to ourselves.”  
“Sure,” Stiles comments as he throws his bag over his shoulder. “Should we invite Lydia and Malia, too?”  
Isaac pops an Altoid in his mouth. “Lydia took Malia to the lake, remember? To keep her out of town until we figure out what Peter wants.”  
“Oh, that’s right. Okay it’s just us boys then,” Stiles remarks.  
  
Scott pats Isaac on the ass as they all file out of the locker room. “Did you see how long Greenberg is taking to change? He wants to be the last one in there. I bet he and Coach are gonna go home together.”  
Stiles shakes himself, sticking his tongue out. “GAH, stop it. I swear to God I’m gonna puke.”   
"That makes two of us," the Beta quips.   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, smut alert!


	13. Part 1 of 3: Glimpses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the first of three glimpses into the Saturday night of some of our characters. I pick up from after the tournament victory.  
> Part 1 is a peek into Adam and Bobby's evening. We find out more about Greenberg's past.  
> The next two chapters will be about Danny and Peter, respectively.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After these three shorter chapters will come the pack sleepover chapter so stay tuned. And thank you for your patience.  
> Some abuse references in this chapter.

**Coach Finstock's back porch, post-tournament**

Adam nurses his tumbler, swirling the amber liquid around with slow rotations of the wrist. The sugar in the alcohol sticks to the inside of the glass, little peaks creeping along the ridges, only to be done in by gravity moments later. Adam holds it up to the light. 

"This is good whiskey. I should know, my father drank himself into stupors with only the finest. The perks of being a highly functioning alcoholic physician. He would inebriate himself and then self-medicate with Oxy. As if the physical and mental abuse wasn't enough, I had to endure his narco-drunken tirades as well. Until he'd pass out on the couch and puke himself, that is." 

Bobby studies him from the corner of his eye, mouth puckered over a Cuban. The end burns lava red as he inhales, the cylinder of tobacco and burning paper producing an abnoxious odor.

Honestly, Coach doesn't know what to say. This young man has been through so much. What words could comfort him?!

Adam's nose scrunches. "Do you have to smoke those, Bobby?" 

Finstock leans forward, resting the cigar in the ashtray as soon as the words hit him. 

"If it bothers you I'll put it out, Adam." 

Greenberg takes a tiny sip and sucks in air from between his exposed teeth, making a hissing sound. He swallows a moment later as he tips his head back.

Bobby looks at him in wonderment.

Adam chuckles. 

"This is one way to taste liquor or wine. The air pushes the alcohol to the back and side of the tongue, allowing all the taste buds to experience it." 

Bobby's ruby mouth has fallen open. Quite frankly he's amazed at this young man. He never knows what he'll pull out of his hat next. 

Adam notices his expression of admiration and blushes deeply.

"I have weird interests, Bobby. Took a wine and whiskey tasting course last year with a fake id. I want to become a chef and a sommelier."

That was the last thing he expected to hear. 

"A chef?" Bobby repeats. "That's amazing, Adam! I think you'd be great at it." 

Who would have thought. Of course, with all of Bobby's pretending to hate him he's only just discovering who Adam Greenberg truly is.

"Thanks," Adam scratches his stubbly chin. He didn't have time to shave this morning. 

"It's been long in coming. I've been cooking for myself for several years. Started to really develop a passion for it a couple back. Oh, and the cigar... just reminds me of when my Dad smoked them... and then put them out on my arm. A little PTSD trigger. But you go ahead, honestly. Don't stop on my account. I can handle it."

Bobby steals a glance to the multiple circular scars on his inner arms and winces. How did he not notice those before?! Jesus he feels like a shit now. 

He immediately snuffs it out, the bits of crushed leaves leaving an ashy residue against the ceramic.  

"I'm so sorry, Adam. I won't ever smoke these near you again." 

Their fingers intertwine over their knees which are touching, and Finstock scoots his chair even closer.

"You amaze me more each day. How a man like your Dad could have lived such a double life, I'll never know. Eron had the whole town fooled. We all thought he was the best. All that time he was a filthy coward taking his frustrations out on a kid. His SON no less. I mean, when he died some of what had happened to you came out but I didn't know the full extent until now. He never saw the light in you and it breaks my heart. But I do. I see that light, Adam." 

The coach squeezes his hand hard. 

Adam looks away, not wanting to cry in front of his boyfriend. "It's okay. I survived. All that shit made me stronger. And compared to what Lahey went through, my childhood was a cakewalk." 

Bobby nods, somber in his tone. "What Lahey went through was one of the most profoundly disturbing things I have ever encountered. This town is troubled. When I think of how many of you have grown up without mothers. You, Isaac, Stiles, the Hale kids back when..."

Yes. None of them had an easy life. "At least Stiles has a wonderful father. Sheriff Stilinski is an exemplary man."

Adam fakes a grin, not really keen on spending a Saturday night dwelling on Beacon Hills' family traumas.

"He is. Hey, Bobby...come on. Let's talk about something happier. We won! We should be celebrating." 

Bobby's eyes light up, the blue just a little brighter than before. 

"That we did. We've never won this tournament. Ever. And today we finally did it and I just can't wait to rub it in Coach Walley's face on Monday. He thinks only his football team is worth anything. I have to make him understand that also my boys -" 

Adam gazes at him, a softness crinkling around the edges of his azure eyes. The warm hand enveloping his unexpectedly gifts him with caresses on his thigh. 

"You overthink everything, Bobby. Just relax. You don't have to prove anything to that asswipe Walley. I've known him for six years and the dude has never changed. Will never change. You've grown so much as a coach and as a man since I was a freshman. Just give yourself a break."

Bobby's facial muscles relax, and a smile takes over the corners of his mouth. He couldn't resist if he tried. "You are so amazing. I honestly don't understand why you're with someone like me. But I'll take it. I'll take you, Adam. You're so good for me. You keep me grounded and have given me new purpose."

Adam angles in, a real grin painted on his face now.  He and Bobby share a quick kiss, lingering but a moment before pulling away. Bobby's brow furrows and he cups Adam's cheek. "You still look pensive. What's going on?"

Greenberg sighs, the foreboding that has been eating away at him now a bit too much to hide. 

"Bobby, I think some of the guys on the team know about us. I caught Scott and his cronies staring as they were changing tonight. I'm worried you're going to get in trouble. Maybe it's better I drop out now. That way no one can object. I'd just be a 20-year-old in a relationship with his ex-Coach. This is your livelihood, Bob. All I want to do is cook. I don't need a diploma to do that." 

Bobby shakes his head vehemently and throws back the rest of his whiskey in one gulp.

He grimaces immediately. "Ah Jesus, how do they do that in movies?! Burns like a motherfucker." He smacks his plump lips. 

Adam laughs. "In movies they use tea, Bobby."

Coach smirks. 

"Adam, don't be a smartass. Hey, listen to me. You are not dropping out. I'll talk to Scott, make sure in case he does know that we're all on the same page. Though I honestly don't see how he could. The first and only time we did it at school literally no one was around. Anyway my point is you need to finish, it's just months away. Stop pretending to be stupid and just buckle down. You'll pass and graduate. I'll hand you the diploma myself." 

Coach may not be certain of the boys suspecting, but Adam is. He's known about the werewolves in Beacon Hills for a long time. 

When things were really bad with his father, back when he was first a junior and the beatings and beratement had become a daily occurrence, he had seriously considered asking Derek Hale for the bite. Adam was under the impression it would be the answer to all his problems. Give him the strength to overpower his Dad. Then the fucker overdosed and died and his issue was pretty much solved. 

Upon reflection, Adam wouldn't have had the courage to ask, for fear of rejection. Scott and the others had formed a pack in the meantime.. the need for revenge somehow passed.

Adam Greenberg faded into anonymity like a chorus member in some middle school musical. 

"Listen, Bobby. Let me talk to Scott on Monday. I'll reason with him. He's my peer after all, better for me to deal with this directly. And I see your point. A few more months won't kill me. It'll most likely be easier to get into a cooking school with an actual higher level certificate of some sort."

Bobby is beaming, hopeful that everything will somehow work out. Adam isn't quite so enthusiastic but he doesn't want to ruin their evening. 

"See? I knew you'd see reason. Now come on, let's go inside. I'm starving," Bobby suggests. 

Adam smiles from ear to ear. "Can I cook?"

Bobby holds the door open. "If you think after telling me you want to be a chef I was going to subject you to my frozen leftovers, well... the kitchen is that way, Greenberg." 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for the delay. Other fics got in the way, as did life.  
> I am currently on vacation with only my phone to write on so please forgive the shorter chapters, but writing and editing on a phone is a BITCH.  
> The sleepover chapter may not happen until end of July when I get home and back to my computer, but I hope you enjoy these three in the meantime. I will try to post the other two every 2-3 days at most.  
> I am also outlining a fun new fic I will write in August starring Sterek and Scisaac.  
> Bear with me, even us writers need a vacay sometimes!


	14. Part 2 of 3 Glimpses: Danny Against the Barolo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danny is upset and calls an old friend to comfort him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the second glimpse, hope you enjoy it!  
> I am still on holiday but will try to churn more out.

The air is a bit stifling despite the cooler temperatures. One window remains slightly ajar as a cool night breeze billows the curtain.

Danny's room is shrouded in darkness except for the light of the phone screen reflecting against his forlorn features. His dark eyes are red and swollen, his chapped lip nervously chewed upon.

 

Danny's been in bed for two hours. Half-drunk, his head propped up crookedly against his pillow, he looks like a lopsided doll. 

An open bottle of wine adorns his night stand, nearly half of it consumed. 

One text message has been mocking him for the past half hour. 

_Hey Danny, u sure u don't want to come over? It'll be fun. If u change ur mind we're at mine. Scott_

Yes, this is exactly what Danny wants. To watch Scott and Isaac fawn over each other while Derek Hale glares at him all night. No thanks. 

"Just me and the Barolo," he muses, pouring himself another glass. The dark burgundy color almost looks like blood in this dim atmosphere. 

Danny isn't much of a drinker so the third glass is already taking effect. His whole body has relaxed into the covers around him and there's a pleasant warmth spreading through his long limbs.The goalie's slowly discovering that feeling sorry for yourself is much easier when your blood runs red with Nebbiolo. 

One slim finger scrolls the contacts list and stops, hovering above the call button. 

A glance at the clock and a quick calculation later, he presses green and holds his breath. 

It rings four times before a groggy man picks up. 

"Mmm hello?"

Danny sits up, the sound of his friend's familiar voice making his heart flutter. It's been a couple weeks since they actually spoke.

"Jackson? It's Danny," he sniffles. 

Jackson was already awake but still lazying around in bed, deliberating whether he had time to masturbate before breakfast. A cream silk sheet barely covers his powerful thighs. 

"Danny...shit. Sorry. I answered without looking. 'Course it's you! What's going on, boo? Why aren't you out, isn't it like 10pm in Beacon Hills?" 

"Yeah," Danny exhales. "I'm honestly not in the mood. And I'm kinda drunk."

Jackson rubs the sleep from his eyes, smacking his beautiful lips. He reaches over and takes a sip from his water glass. 

"Daniel, you sound like you're crying. Drinking alone I presume? Boo, you know you're a sad drunk right after being a flirty drunk. What's wrong, level two inebriated Danny? Tell me everything."

The despondent goalie smiles weakly. He could always count on Jackson, whether to listen or just make him snort from laughter over a clever but biting remark. He misses him so much and the realization hits his gut enough for him to tear up. 

Few people understood their friendship when Jackson was still at Beacon Hills. On the surface they're such different people, but years of affection has only made them grow closer. Even now, despite the distance. 

Jackson was the first person he came out to, and in kind he was privy to his friend's secret. And he'd take it to the grave until Jacks finally decided to come out himself. 

"You sure I'm not bugging you?" 

Jackson eyes the bottle of lube next to the lamp. "Nah, I was just gonna wank off."

Danny chuckles. "Wank? How British. Do you also say pavement and chips? Seriously though, how's it going in London?"

The blond puffs a pillow and bends it into the groove of his neck. 

"No better or worse than two weeks ago. I'm adjusting. To be cliche, the food is awful. We mostly have chef prepare ethnic food."

"Of course you do."

"Hey, don't hate. Anyway, I thought we were supposed to talk about you. Hold on one sec, boo. Gonna put in my earphones."

Once he's hands free, he rests the phone next to his hip. 

"Why didn't you FaceTime me? I miss your cute mug, D."

"Trust me, Jackson...I'm not pretty to look at right now. I've got a black eye, busted lip, and a swollen nose."

Jackson half sits to attention. 

"What the fuck happened? Did you get hurt playing lacrosse?! Who did it?!"

Danny swirls the wine around in his mouth before answering. 

"You've missed a lot. Get comfortable."

Once Jackson's back is firmly pressed against the headboard, he folds his hands behind his head, biceps flexed into two snow-covered mounds of muscle. Everything about his body is still perfection. 

"Shoot. I'm all ears."

Danny clears his throat, mentally summarizing what he needs to say. He isn't one for long speeches. 

"In a nutshell, Derek Hale mated Stiles. Stiles went into heat and it kind of fucked us all up. Me first and foremost. 

I tried to seduce Stiles and I almost succeeded, we were kissing and groping on my bed. Derek barged in and caught us. Pretty much beat the shit out of me." 

Jackson's mouth goes increasingly slack as Danny continues. 

"I don't want to interrupt you, boo, but there's so many things wrong with what you said already. And Derek Hale? I'm gonna kill him." His fists tighten.

This is what Danny was dreading. Jackson can be very hot-tempered when he wants to be. 

"Listen, Jacks, it's fine. We've all pretty much made our peace. But what I've said isn't the only thing that went down."

Jackson's thick eyebrows cross. "Jesus Christ, there's more?"

"If you only knew. Hold on to your seat. So the Hale -Stilinski thing. Then Scott and fucking Isaac Lahey get together. 

Coach hits on Stiles and is now convinced that Stiles and I are the reason why he was rejected. Which we kinda are. Dude, we're in a pretend relationship at school because I'm THAT pathetic!"

A sob escapes his chest. Jackson wishes he could give him a hug, the pain in his voice touching something within him even through the phone. 

Danny composes himself enough to finish. "Lydia and Malia are together, but that has nothing to do with the heat. Oh...once Stiles rejected Coach it seems he and Greenberg started fucking. And Peter Hale is back in town. That about covers it."

Jackson is rubbing his temples. "I don't know if my brain is about to explode or if this is some awful nightmare. And hold on...Coach and Greenberg? I think I'm gonna puke. Dude... Where do I start?!"

The blond imitates gagging and Danny belly laughs.

"I told you, a lot has happened."

Jackson shakes his head in utter disbelief. 

 "This is some seriously fucked up shit, Danny. Seriously."

 

The goalie nods, sucking out the last drops of the third glass onto his tongue. 

"I know."

 

Jackson blinks, staring into empty space. "Okay, so major shit is going down. But that doesn't explain why my boo is sitting alone on a Saturday night hugging a bottle of what I assume is...Barolo? Why aren't you shaking that fine ass in a club?"

Danny grins. 

 

"Yeah. Barolo. Stolen straight from my Dad's stash."

"You mean Mother's stash."

"Exactly," he chuckles.

"Say hi to the rents for me. So?" Jackson scratches his firm, hairless pec. "Why aren't you the Dancing Queen tonight? Spill it. Why so sullen Mary Sue? Wait...lemme guess. The bit about Scott."

Danny's face clouds over at the mention of the Alpha's name.

"I really liked him, Jacks. It was more than fucking to me. Then end of summer he comes out with some bullshit 'I was confused, It's just an experiment.' What does he do? A year later he hooks up with Isaac Lahey. And now they act like they're fucking married. Jesus, or he likes cock or he doesn't. I guess he just didn't like mine."

 

Jackson isn't one for hand holding or sugar coating. He was listening patiently but now it's tough love time. He completely understands how upset his best friend is, but he doesn't care. Jackson is the only person who can get away with treating the weeping lacrosse player so honestly. 

"Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Danny. You're fucking gorgeous and sexy. You even got beat up over almost screwing Stiles. Had Derek not found him you would have totally tapped that. And I've seen your cock. It's delicious. People want you. People you know."

Jackson swallows through that last phrase. "Fuck Scott if he prefers sweater boy."

"Scarf boy," Danny interjects. 

"Whatever. Fuck Scott and fuck Isaac. You deserve someone who knows how brilliant you are. In every sense."

Jackson grabs madly for the water again, his hand trembling as he wets his lips. He wishes this clear liquid were vodka. It only partially quenches his parched throat.

"Okay, so I just kinda admitted my feelings to Danny. Where did that come from?! Shit. You're getting soft, Whittemore." The thoughts jumble and crash into each other in his mind. 

It may be the wine fumes, but the goalie detects a change in tone? Did he hear correctly? 

"Jackson?" Danny whispers. 

"Yes?" He's done it now. The kid isn't stupid.

"Jackson, do you have feelings for me?"

Now also Danny is shaking.

There's a moment of silence on the other end as Jackson stares at the phone, mouth moving but nothing coming out. Too late now. 

"Yes, Daniel. I have feelings for you. Emotionally and physically. I've wanted to be with you for the last year. The hardest part about leaving was ...having to be apart from you."

Danny's sobering. Quickly. Wow.

His heart thrums in his ears. 

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Jackson guffaws, cooling his flushed cheek against the pillow. He needs to hold onto something to settle himself. 

"I tried. But you always said I wasn't your type."

"First you were with Lydia. And then once it was over I assumed you were kidding, messing with me. Of course I would have loved to be with you, Jacks. Come on."

"I wasn't messing with you, Danny. But all the mixed signals... you were always crushing on Scott so I assumed you liked them dark with crooked jaws."

Danny smiles to himself. "No, Jacks. I mean I did like Scott. But that was born in absence to what we could have had. Our friendship and those weird  moments of sexual tension, remember? Jesus this was one huge misunderstanding. Fuck." 

His fist pounds the mattress. Jackson can read him from across an ocean... his friend is very upset. 

"It's okay, Danny. Now we know. Don't feel worse. Maybe this all happened for a reason."

Danny's so worked up that his tears well again. "I've missed you so much. And I'm so alone. So fucking alone, Jackson. Jesus I wish you were here right now to hold me. What reason could there be if not to make us miserable? The universe wants us apart."

Jackson ignores the erection pushing against his boxers. He's imagining Danny in bed, shirtless as always. His coffee skin silky against his fingers as he pulls him near to comfort him.

"Danny?" The blond's voice cracks. 

"What?" Danny wipes his nose with several Kleenex. 

"Danny... You and I need a distraction. Let's get off together. Right now. I want to make you cum, to make you feel wanted like you always should. You want me there, I can be. As best as I can right now. If you say no I'm going to hang up anyway and jerk off to the idea of you so we might as well keep each other company."

There IS a low throb in Danny's pajama pants. 

"It wouldn't be weird for you?" The goalie lowers the bedsheet gingerly. 

"Dude I just told you I like you and want you. Why would it be weird? Now come on, get your cock out, lube up, and let's make each other feel good."

"There's the Jackson I know," Danny quips as he reaches for the toy drawer. 

By the time Danny's put him on speaker and pulled down his pants, Jackson's already gripping the base of his turgid dick. The other hand plays with his balls, tugging the downy scrotum. He's elongating with each caress, the thick shaft shiny with gel and just begging to be stroked. 

"Are you with me, baby?" Jackson breathes, tone huskier. "Kinda wanna get this going..."

Danny hisses softly at the cool sensation against his tip as he pours the lube generously over the top. 

"Yes...ugh fuck Jacks. I wish you could see how hard I am for you right now. My cock standing at attention just waiting for your hot mouth."

The blond twists one of his nipples as his hand travels along his yearning length. 

"How hard baby? Does it hurt? Are you throbbing for me? Danny...just imagine my mouth on you, tongue lapping at your salty slit. I squeeze right above your balls before taking you down to my tonsils. I choke and go further. I know you like it deep."

"Mmm," Jackson groans when he hears the skin slapping on the end of the line. 

His mind wanders from Danny's dark cock to the vision of his best friend's mouth agape in pleasure, his pink tongue ready to be sucked. 

Danny passes a thumb over the crown when he drags his foreskin over the glans, moaning loudly. "Jesus Jacks, fuck. I want to fuck you so bad."

He slips a finger into his own opening instead. He hooks in, widening the gap.

"Ugh, need to feel your clench."

Jackson is milking hard now, one hand twists left as his other compresses. 

"Fuck Danny... I want you in me so badly," he murmurs. "I'd open myself completely, all yours to ravage."

Danny's eyes are closed, two fingers working the tight muscle as he tugs vigorously. 

"Jackson, as you're sucking me off I'm fingering your hole. I want to open your sweet asshole up so I can eat you out. I can't wait to shove my hot tongue inside your needy heat, sweep my muscle against your filthy walls." 

"Argh," the blond whimpers, the jerking more and more frenetic. 

"Baby, the heat. I'm getting close." His fingers crawl to the object that he's lubed up earlier. Jackson lifts his bottom and doesn't bother prepping. He does this at least twice a day when he can't get the real thing. 

The black dildo pushes past his pucker and disappears inside him with an audible sigh.

Now both men play a game of coordinating thrusts with fist jerks. 

Danny is knuckle deep in himself, fingers slick with lube and his juices as they probe.

"Damn Jackson, your ass is so tight. Such a good boy taking my huge cock."

Jackson's dildo fills him as if it were Danny's dick. He rides it, beating against his prostate now that he's moments from cumming. Every movement is perfectly calculated. 

"Baby...I'm so so close. Danny, come with me...cum in my ass, make it drip from me."

Danny's nearly wheezing. "Oh god oh god I'm cumming!"

He screams something incomprehensible, a long fountain-like spurt soiling his sternum. White droplets speckle his hand which churns what's left from his aching member. 

He hasn't yet finished when also Jackson spills, a messy series of jets that get everywhere. Perhaps it's his twitching hand's fault.

"Oh my ...Jesus. I can't...Danny... " he huffs.

He rides the aftershock on the fake cock until he's lax and panting. It pops out with an obscene slurp. 

"Goddamn Danny...you and your tongue."

Danny's too spent to even move. His satisfied grin says it all.

"You're grinning aren't you, Mahealani?"

"Yup," he pants. "I like to hear you melt."

"If I had the energy I'd pat myself on the back. This was the best idea ever."

The goalie's wiping himself with some Kleenex. "You don't even know how bad I'd want to cuddle with you right now."

Jackson wraps himself in the blanket he has thrown to the side, shivering from a drop in body temp. "London's fucking cold already. Even my supernatural ass feels it. I'd love to sleep against you, boo. I remember how hot you run, even for a human. Shit. I hate this." 

He grabs his phone and opens a couple tabs.

"Yeah, I know Jackson. Maybe at Christmas? Any chance you can stay the holiday? I'm sure David won't mind. Even so, I don't know how I'll last till then. We'll have to do this more often, Jackson. Maybe with video next time, huh? You can't see it but I'm winking."

Jackson shakes his head as his fingers type. "Boo, I love you. But you are such a dork. And I mean that as affectionately as possible."

"Yeah well, it's a gift." Danny's eyelids drop. Between the wine and the orgasm he's dozing off.

"Jacks? You there? I'm starting to kinda crash here."

Jackson's blue eyes light up. He's smirking to himself. 

"Before I let you go, Daniel, I'm gonna need you to do me a favor."

"Anything," he yawns. 

"Leave me a key under the mat, will ya?"

The goalie gasps. "Wait, what?! Are you coming?!"

The blond beams, throwing the phone to the edge of the bed. "Booked myself on a flight in four hours. See you in 12, gorgeous." 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate writing on my phone. End rant.  
> Thank you for being patient on other fics you may be waiting on!


	15. Part 3a of 3 Glimpses: Unexpected Encounters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashback a few days to Peter Hale meeting the warlock for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A second chapter will be posted about the final meeting in the next couple days. Sorry I am still on vacation and editing on the phone is pure torture. Thanks for your understanding.

After driving for more than a mile down a tree-lined path, Peter Hale pulls up to what looks like an abandoned farmhouse. The enormous edifice sits on the outskirts of Beacon Hills, on the border with the next town. Peter's lived here his entire life and can't recall who this secluded property belonged to. 

The main building is very much a turn of the century family home (though it's seen better days). The two-story frame structure has weathered too many winters, the gray paint cracked and peeling from what siding hasn't broken off and fallen to the ground. The foundation, sunk in the middle, makes the place look like it is scowling. With reason, given the state of it all. 

Further back, there are equally shabby structures. A barn, tool shack, and servants' quarters make up a quadrant with the mansion being the focus. Whoever owned this place over a century ago was wealthy. Now it's but a shadow of its former glory. 

A faint glow from within one of the arched windows is the only warmth in this godforsaken spot, a ratty lace curtain partially covering the filthy glass. The rest of the dilapidated house is enveloped in darkness. 

"I should have asked for a day meeting," Peter muses as he shifts into park. 

The instant he steps outside into the chilly autumn air, his wolf senses kick in. There's a mist of supernatural energy about the house, more than what's usual for Beacon Hills. 

Peter smells evil. It reeks of sulfur and hits his nostrils, making them flare. The hair on the back of his neck stands and every nerve in his body is on alert. He shifts just enough for his eyes to glow blue and his fangs to protrude. 

What Peter doesn't see despite his special powers are the two demonic spirits floating circles around him. It's for the best, because to bear witness to their twisted visages would scar him for life. 

"What the fuck is this place?!" His mind screams.  

Before he has time to react, an enormous black hound patters in from around the corner of the porch. He stares down the wolf and growls, eyes blazing a neon red. 

"That's not an Alpha red," Peter says aloud. When the wolf growls back, fully showing his canines, the dog whimpers and scampers back to where he came from. 

"Good boy," he whispers in relief. "Now let's get this over with." 

Peter climbs the cracked steps carefully, lingering a bit on the porch before knocking. 

Soft steps approach the front, he can hear them and discerns they are a woman's. A moment of silence ensues. There isn't a peephole but Peter feels watched all the same. With a creak the heavy front door swings open. 

A beautiful brunette appears, long curly hair shaping an exotic face. 

"Peter Hale," she announces in a thick Spanish accent, which sounds more like 'Peterr Ale." 

The werewolf grins, his natural charm kicking in when presented with beauty. "Yes, I'm here to see-" 

She cuts him off rather abruptly, unimpressed by his baby blues. "Why didn't Fury bark?" she asks. 

"Fury? I'm assuming you mean the black pup I encountered earlier? Don't be too upset. I'm sure he's a great guard dog against humans." He turns on the eye glow. "We're kinda family." 

The woman frowns. "He's a hellhound. Not supposed to fear anything. Unusual. I'll have to investigate. Anyway, this way," she indicates the only light at the end of a long hallway. 

Peter Hale steps inside, immediately noting through his wolf vision that the walls in the dimly lit living room are covered in ancient symbols and writings. 

The woman picks up on his curiosity as she twists the lock. 

"They are protection spells. There are many bad things around here. Now please ...this way." 

She doesn't wait for him but takes the dusty corridor with a long stride. Her shapely form isn't lost on Peter who enjoys the view as he follows her back. "Cold but so hot," he thinks. "I'm intrigued." 

Moments later he comes upon an open entryway. As he's ushered in, Peter turns to thank her but the woman seems to have disappeared into thin air. 

He turns, his face a question mark. 

"She does that," says a fair-haired man, sat behind a huge desk. He is one of two who occupy the vast room. 

It's to all purposes an old library. Shelves bursting with volumes cover every spare inch of space. His family home had one as well before it all burned to a crisp (no thanks to Kate Argent). 

Thick books also litter the large mahogany desk, some stacked and some open. All of them look aged. 

One of the men handling them is blond, wearing a white shirt and red tie, though unkempt in appearance. He looks like he's been sleeping in his clothes. His beard is at least two days old and rolled sleeves reveal wiry forearms with pronounced veins. A lit cigarette dangles from his chapped lips. 

The other, a brunette with a light beard and tired eyes, stands as Peter enters, extending a hand. 

"Hey there," the larger man says. "Have a seat." 

An empty armchair is positioned in front of where the smaller man sits. 

"Peter Hale, I presume" says the blond in a thick Newcastle accent. "Sorry, I don't shake hands. Flu season. What can I do for you, mate?" 

The wolf falls comfortably into the chair. A cloud of dust billows around him and Peter coughs. 

"Apologies. Had to fire the help," quips the mysterious fellow. 

Peter chuckles. "Well it fits a certain Goth, Addams Family chic. If that's what you're going for, well done. You should give me the name of your decorator. Is Thing going to bring me a drink?" 

The blond leans in, pointing at him with the cigarette. "Blimey, you've got jokes. Peter Hale, if you don't mind, we're in the middle of a total shite storm. I'm neck-deep in demons and once we're done here, I'm wanted the town over. What can I and my merry band do for you?" 

Peter sighs. He can never have any fun. 

"Right to business then. I need a couple spells done. I understand you do that sort of thing, that you're a warlock. A friend referred me." 

Peter's sharp eyes size him up and the man returns the intensity of the stare. 

"Well, I do and I don't. It depends on the need and circumstance, ya see. I'm not exactly a warlock, per se." 

Peter nods. "I have money, that's not an issue." 

The blond chuckles as he takes another drag. "It's not about money, mate." He's being deliberately vague. "I only try to do good. Working for the man upstairs and all that, trying to redeem myself." 

Peter flips a card between two fingertips that he's been holding in his pocket. It's a bit faded and bent in one corner. 

"I see. Explains this, then, John Constantine. Exorcist, Demonologist, and... Master of the Dark Arts?" 

The brunette in the corner stifles his laughter and John glares at him without any restraint. 

"Does it still say Master? More like... dabbler. I'm having new ones made." 

Peter tilts his head..."And you are?" He draws out the question. 

"He's Chas," John replies, shaking ash from his fag. 

"I'm Chas," the man repeats. 

"Yes, he said that," Peter states the obvious. 

"I'm John's friend and sidekick, if you will," Chas leans back in his lounge chair lazily. 

John grins as Peter's gaze darts back and forth between them. "Uh-huh. And the young lady was??" 

John clucks his tongue. "You are full of questions, mate. She's Zed. And you pay her no mind. Now, tell me what exactly it is you need and I'll let you know if I can help. Sorry to be short but we're dealing with a nasty situation near here and tick tock." 

"A demon?" The wolf knows a thing or two about odd happenings. 

"Yes, bloody vile thing, too. Seems to have possessed a girl a town over. Anyway, mate, you were saying?" 

John is growing impatient. There is something nagging at him. He doesn't know if he can trust this bloke. 

Peter clears his throat. "I need a binding spell done and then something...special. A custom order if you will. You see, I'm a -" 

"Werewolf, yes? We know. Chas does his homework." John indicates his friend with a bend of his head and Chas flashes him a smile, waving a folder in the air. 

"We don't just see anybody." Chas licks his fingertips, pops open the manila file, and begins reading: "Peter Hale, of the Hale legacy. A werewolf, killed your niece to become an Alpha and now...tsk tsk...now you're a Beta. Or would you consider yourself more an Omega since most of your family is dead and those who aren't despise you? Anyway... I digress. House fire, only survivor... comatose for years, burned but healed. Yada yada. In conflict with Alpha nephew Derek Hale who tried to kill you. Actually, he did but here you are. And...Derek Hale, it seems," he looks in John's direction, "if the werewolf grapevine is correct, has most recently mated a human. A Miecz..Mi-ecz..." 

"Stiles. They call him Stiles Stilinski," Peter interjects, annoyed. 

"Yes. Son of the Sheriff. So your nephew is a gay Alpha. How wonderfully progressive. Need I go on?" 

Peter shakes his head. "I see you are thorough. Yes, Beacon Hills boasts not only an unusual amount of supernatural creatures but also an above-average population of sexually free peoples. Anyway, yes. All true. I am a werewolf. And a killer. And a Beta/Omega.Though I still kind of consider myself an honorary Alpha." 

"But you aren't really an Alpha anymore, are ya, mate?" Chas bites into his lip, John is pushing all the right buttons. 

"Okay then." The wolf doesn't exactly like being reminded of his shortcomings. Isn't he the client?! 

John smirks. 

"So on to business. The binding spell is for me and my daughter Malia. She is warming to me but her friends don't trust me. Mind you, I deserve it. But I do actually care for her and just really want her to love me. I need her in my life." 

John dusts off a tome and starts flipping through it. "Ah yes. Paternal love. One of the most noble of causes. My old man was a right nob...but we're not here to discuss my childhood traumas. This spell I can assist you with. Though you must realize that hoodoo works only if she does truly care for you? It won't make her love you against her will." 

The wolf shifts in his seat, his muscles clenching under his jacket. 

"I need her to love me. To want me around as her father. Even if it's against her will." 

"But it won't be real," Chas interjects. 

John agrees. "It won't be her will. In order for it to work regardless of her feelings we'd need to use black magic. That has a heavy price tag, mate. And I don't mean in dollars." 

The wolf leans forward, removing something from the inside of his leather jacket. Peter rests his elbows on the wood, crossing his hands in front of him, the packet under his palm. 

"You have no idea how far I'll go to get what I want. No idea. Make it happen. Here's ten thousand. And as far as my soul is concerned, I don't have one anymore so no worries." 

He pushes a very thick envelope to under John's fingers. Chas throws the exorcist a puzzled look but shrugs. 

"Fine. I don't do hoodoo though. That will require an...outside consultation. And time. And also money. Understand it's contingent on the doctor accepting the task. No refunds. What's the other spell?" 

The wolf is more worried about this one. 

"Werewolves aren't affected by much if not mountain ash and wolfsbane, and of course silver. I need to put a spell on several. The exact details of what I need to happen are here." 

Constantine reads the note Peter handed him, eyes wide as saucers. 

"Why in the bloody hell would you need this to be done?" 

"That's my business. Can you make it happen, Mr. Constantine?" 

John is confused and a bit conflicted, but who is he to turn down much needed money? 

"Sure. Why not? Same hoodoo consultant. More cash. I'll need an envelope about this thick upon delivery." 

Peter seems satisfied. "Excellent. When?" 

Chas chimes in. "Give us three days. We'll see you back here Saturday afternoon." 

Worry furrows Peter's brow. "Okay, but I need it by then. No later." 

John rises, grabbing his beige trench coat from the back of his chair. 

"If the priest accepts, it will be done. Do you have something of the girl's? For a binding spell it's essential." 

Peter pulls a Ziploc bag from his jeans. 

"Whoa, how many pockets have you got, mate? Got a snooker table under there, too?" 

Peter isn't amused. 

"I stole this hairbrush from her house. Does hair work?" 

Chas grabs the bag from him and holds it up to the light. "Hair works. We do need some of yours, too." 

Peter grins. "From the head?" 

John shakes his, extinguishing his cig rather violently. "Bloody hell mate, yes from the head! Chas...collect a sample. I'm going to go prepare the bag." 

Constantine doesn't bother to offer his hand goodbye, just barks at Peter as he leaves. "See you Saturday. 2 pm. Don't be late. And bring the money." 

Chas pulls a pair of scissors from the desk and walks over to the wolf. "I just need a small strand. You won't see the difference."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy John's cameo! I am having a lot of fun writing him in.  
> Note:  
> I'll be posting more regularly and updating other fics once I return home from holiday in a week. I know some of you are waiting on a specific fic...I promise I will get to it once I have my computer again and a decent wifi connection.


	16. Part 3b of 3 Glimpses: Don't Mess With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter Hale completes the last steps to his plan.  
> Later, an excerpt from a future chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last of the glimpse chapters. I return from my vacation on Sunday and start writing the long sleepover chapter which will be next.

Once Peter Hale has taken his leave (though not without one last attempt at asking Zed out, which she not-so-kindly refused), the trio adjourn to the back of the mansion. It's an area of the home as rundown as the rest.  

The kitchen probably hasn't been renovated in forty years, judging from the criminal overuse of mustard yellow and formica. Several cabinets are missing doors and though the burnt sienna Frigidaire miraculously still works, it gives a diesel motor a run for its money in noise pollution. This part of the house basically looks like someone raided the prop closet from That 70s Show.

Too bad it isn't sweet Fez who is lingering outside. Instead, two lower-level demons struggle uselessly against a powerful spell in the front yard. 

Zed's face is contorted by worry. Three horizontal lines cut into her forehead and she's biting into her plump lower lip, a vain attempt at peeling off that bit of chapped skin that's been bothering her since this morning. She fears if she tugs too hard she'll draw blood. 

Chas sighs, pours three watery coffees from a large steel pot, and hands one each to John and Zed. 

Something isn't sitting right with them. Never one to not speak her mind, Zed is the first to break the silence. 

"I don't trust him," she affirms. "He scared Fury off. What does that say about him? How evil must you be to scare off a Hellhound? Also, he was looking at me funny."

Chas nods in agreement. "I never even got to the second page of my folder. That's where the truly troubling stuff was. And Zed, he was eating you up as soon as he saw you. That man was just a creep."

John rubs his aching eyes with his thumb and index finger. He's too tired for this shite.  "Chas is right, this is all a cluster fuck. I get it, mate. The energy around this place is bleeding insane. The sooner we get out of here the better. But us arriving at the finish line ...well, that's going to take cash. Cash we desperately need. From Peter Hale. Arsehole or not, he's rich."

Zed grunts in response, downing the hot liquid until she has a mug bottom for a nose. 

"I still don't appreciate him ogling me," she smacks her lips.

John grins, another unlit cigarette appearing in the crook of his mouth as if by magic. As he speaks it bounces on his lips.

"Come on, luv. I'm not surprised he was. Your beauty is intoxicating."

Zed sniggers. "Yeah, well, he can take his attentions and shove them."

Zed stares out the grimy window and visibly shivers. The demons linger on the perimeter of the trap, scratching at an invisible wall. She can see them even from this angle at the back. 

They were imprisoned in this small area as soon as Zed and John sensed their presence. It took some fancy planning but they finally managed to close the seal. Then they added another just to be safe. 

"They still out there?" Chas asks, already knowing the answer as he hisses from a scalding sip of Joe. 

Zed nods slowly. "It's horrific. Chas you are so lucky you can't see them."

Chas grimaces. "Jesus. Probably not as horrific as this coffee. It's like I'm drinking the wash water from the pot." He immediately pours the rest out, the drain making a gurgling noise as the brown liquid swirls away. 

John shifts, a cold wave passing through his bones. Diving into ice water would be more pleasant. "Bugger. That's bad, mate."

Chas wipes his mouth with a paper towel. He wishes he could sandpaper the taste off his tongue. "Worse than bad."

Zed focuses back inside, her hazel eyes meeting Constantine's chocolate gaze.

"I don't know why they insist. They won't be able to get out with that double seal."

John knows it's in a demon's nature to try. They have nothing to lose and all eternity to do so. 

Right now he isn't keen on spinning explanations. "We just have to be sure to keep the traps up is all."

Chas and Zed exchange knowing glances. She urges him on with a mouthed "Do it" and a nudge of the head.

The brunette replies with a nod. 

"Listen, John." He coughs like people who don't really want to broach a delicate subject do: short, dry, and fake. 

"Why do you wanna help this guy if none of us trust him?" Chas is concerned they might be making a mistake. A huge one.

John rubs at his sore neck. The stress is getting to him. 

"Chas, mate... there's an endgame here. I may need him for something later."

Constantine pats his pocket. "Also, sometimes bad people's money helps good ones. Speaking of...we need to get going, lads. That poor girl requires our assistance. Everyone keep your talismans close. This isn't our first rodeo and the risks are clear but we're all tired and distracted. Worst combination ever."

Zed crosses herself and sighs. "Dios mio, I'd like one month without some demon busting our cojones." 

Chas rinses his cup out in the sink and smiles faintly.  "Yeah, that would be nice. Unfortunately I fear the day that happens we'll be meeting Manny and it won't be for a hello."

John makes for the hallway and suddenly turns, a hand splayed on the chipped door frame. "Chas, you want me to reach out to Papa Midnite? We need him to get on those spells asap."

His friend pauses a moment as he dries the mug with circular motions of his wrist. His large fingers barely fit inside as he turns the cloth. 

"Probably best. He really doesn't like talking to outsiders."

"Will do. Give me five? You two, please load the car, aye? Come on kids, chop chop. A demon awaits."

**Three days later...**

Zed watches from the back of the library, lithe body leaning against a ladder. Her arms and feet are crossed and one foot taps incessantly. She couldn't be more on the defensive. 

Chas and John are in the same seats as the first meeting. Really, the only thing that is different is that it's light out and Peter can see in greater detail just how forgotten this place is. 

"It looks even lovelier in the daytime. How charming," he says sarcastically. 

John isn't amused. He's one more stupid comment from throwing Peter Hale out, but for the money he'll deal with it. He thinks about how much it will assist them in their endeavors. 

Constantine has a fresh shirt on, but that's about the only thing that's "refreshed" in the room. All three of them look exhausted. John's beard has grown in darker, and the expression lines he carries seem carved in deeper. 

Chas isn't faring much better. He yawns unexpectedly and when he mumbles "Sorry," Peter can't help but notice the two extra sets of bags under his swollen eyes.

It's been three days of exorcising and the demon isn't budging. 

The one who looks most rested is Zed, but that's still an understatement. Though her attendance was in a role more of moral support, the effort of assisting in chanting the prayers and physically restraining the girl was more than taxing. 

"Mr. Constantine, allow me to say you look like crap." Peter is nothing if not blunt. "The demon?"

John's dark circles are almost plum against his pale skin. His pupils are no bigger than pin pricks within dark, stormy eyes.

"Mate, you don't know the half of it." His voice is raspy from having recited for nearly 60 hours. 

"I'm sorry. That poor girl." His tone is flat, revealing little emotion. Zed wishes she could kill him with her glare. 

John lights a cigarette, the sizzle of the paper burning the loudest sound in the room. 

"Hopefully we'll be able to help her yet. Anyway, to business." He takes a drag.

Peter is eager to complete the transaction. He hates being in this place. It reeks of malice and pain.

John leans over, only the top of his blond head visible. The cigarette dangles perilously as he pulls open drawers.

"Be careful with that," the wolf advises.

"This place will light up like a Homecoming bonfire if you drop it." 

He digs and fishes out two vials. Emerging from below, John pushes them carefully to Peter's waiting hands. 

"Don't you worry. We've got fire insurance. Here ya go." 

Peter's eyebrows cross. "What are these? I asked for spells."

Zed guffaws from the corner. 

"Zed, behave," John suggests more harshly than usual. He explains their use because it's obvious Peter Hale has never cast a spell. 

"Peter, these come straight from our consultant in New York. They seal the deal. The spells have already been put in motion by the doctor. If you get the parties involved to ingest these potions, the effects are doubled. Sometimes we strengthen spells by burning candles, anointing objects with oils, or in more extreme cases, ingestion of potions." 

The wolf studies the vials. "Which is which?" 

A fingertip taps the right top. "This one is for Malia's spell. Ergo the red glass. The spell will work if she doesn't drink this but it will take longer to blossom. Potion consumed means an almost immediate effect. Understand?"

Peter is annoyed at this extra work. It's going to take some creative executing to achieve his goal. 

"And for the other thing?"

John searches his pockets for his pack of cigarettes even though he hasn't even finished smoking this one. "The black. Make sure all the interested parties ingest. That's why the vial is bigger. Equal amounts or it will be exponentially stronger in those who partake more."

Peter wasn't prepared for this unforeseen inconvenience. The frustration boils to the surface, and he has a tantrum.

"This wasn't part of the deal. This will require more work and I am on a schedule. I'm very annoyed, Constantine."

John won't be intimidated by anyone. He's been spat at and insulted by a demon for days on end. A capricious werewolf makes him laugh.

"Well, Peter, too bloody bad! The deal is what the doctor deems best. And may I add that in these things, paying doesn't mean shite. Papa Midnite could have easily told you to bugger off and then kept his money, so shut your trap and finish the bleeding spells!"

John is now yelling, and Peter pulls back in shock. "Also, last condition. Papa Midnite will require a favor from you in the future. Because he normally doesn't do these things. So he'll call upon you when he needs you."

Peter's mouth hangs open, cornflower eyes lacking their lustre.

"What does that mean?"

This whole time Chas and Zed have been observing, amused. 

"It means when Papa needs you, he'll find you. And he'll expect you to comply with his demands. Whatever they may be." John is using his best condescending tone. 

"Jesus. Thank you for that terrifying perspective on the rest of my life."

John raises his palms to the sky and smiles. "This is what happens when you get in bed with the devil, mate. Now, you got that other thick envelope for me? We've got places to be, demons to exorcise."

Peter stores the vials in his jacket pockets, zipping each one into safety. 

He pulls the cash from his inside sleeve and delivers it to John. 

"Well, despite the ... unexpected additional labor and the heart-stopping news that a voodoo doctor will one day ask me to perform God knows what unspeakable act, you have been a man of your word. Here is the recompense we discussed."

Chas takes the envelope from John and whispers "Thanks" in Peter's direction.

Constantine nods, standing. "Pleasure. Hope you get what you want, Peter Hale."

"Not going to count it?" The wolf enquires.

John winks. "I trust ya. If it's not all there, I'll just send one of those demons trapped in my front yard to haunt ya."

Peter pales, the explanation of the evil he felt both times he arrived hitting him. 

"Awesome. Okay. On that note, best of luck on the exorcism of Emily Rose or whatever would be the title of this made for tv movie."

"Thanks," Zed finally speaks. "Safe drive back." Her sarcasm bites. 

"Ouch. Feisty. Nice seeing you again, Zed. If you ever want that drink, you know where to find me."

The answer he gets is a middle finger raised very slowly.

Peter chuckles as he exits the room. "Don't get up, guys. I'll see myself out."

When he makes it to the porch, he literally runs to his car, unsure of where the hellish presences are lurking. He can't see them but he can sure smell them and feel them. It's not pleasant. It's actually pretty petrifying. 

On the way back into Beacon Hills, Peter gets an idea of how to complete the spells. 

There's a liquor store near his condo. He makes a stop. 

 **Two Hours Later...**

Peter hands the box to the young man and as soon as it's loaded in the car, he grabs him by the collar. "Make sure that gets to Scott McCall's house by 7pm. If you drop it I will come to you tonight and rip your throat out while you sleep!" 

The courier can barely form words from the bone-shaking fear. He stares into Peter's steel-blue eyes and his heart nearly explodes. It's amusing Peter to no end. 

"Who -who should I say it's from?" he stutters, mouth dry as sawdust.

"Nobody." A folded hundred-dollar bill finds its way into the boy's sweaty palm. "Just be sure the card is attached."

"Okay, so I deliver it signed or do I just leave it on the po-porch?" 

Peter sighs. "Really? Why do I always have to deal with  incompetence?! Son, ring the bell. If a dark-haired woman or a goofy-looking kid answer then you hand it to them. Otherwise leave it on the porch, behind the storm door. Got it?"

"Okay," he gulps. The boy scrambles to get into the car. 

"No later than 7!" Peter yells after him as he takes off almost immediately with a screech of tires. Peter laughs heartily. 

It's been a long week. He has to get his amusement in where he can.  

Peter's been to the warlock twice, and what an obnoxious English fellow he is. Still, he did make good on what the wolf wanted. Perhaps things are finally falling into place. Just one more pawn has to be moved. 

Boy, that Zed got his blood boiling. (And another part of him got pretty hot as well). He's going to get her to warm to him if it's the last thing he does. If they remain in Beacon for a while yet, and judging from things they will, he's got time to play his cards. 

Malia. He must leave her alone for today, make the others continue to believe that he's not interested. But tomorrow he's going to take a drive to the lake, pay his daughter a visit. Share a drink. Lydia is going to be alone. By the time she alerts the others, it will be too late. And if things go his way, Scott's pack won't be in any condition to help her, or themselves, come the morning.

"The tournament should be over soon," he thinks, scrutinizing his watch. He is fairly certain that the first line of players that he threatened from the opposing team will play convincingly bad enough to show they had an off day. That's the only way the Cyclones could ever win this tournament. That idiot Finstock would never bring this victory home on his own. And the boys need to win tonight. They need something to celebrate. 

Yes, things are going as planned. He has anticipated almost everything that could go wrong and nevertheless, the wolf is confident that it will be a success. It has to be. 

Soon, Peter Hale is going to get back what was once his. 

**A little preview from a future chapter:**

Coach opens his mouth and closes it. Opens his mouth and closes it. The barrage of words he has stuck in his gullet can't seem to find their way to his lips. He paces and says nothing. 

Scott, Isaac, Stiles, and Danny sit divided on two benches, Danny unsure why he's been called in as well. He wasn't even at Scott's. Though he is extremely tired from Jackson's "attentions." His friend got in on Sunday and they didn't leave his bed until today. 

The other boys are worse off. Wrecked, actually. The wolves aren't healing as they should be and it has Scott very worried. What happened over the weekend should be a memory by now, but all the physical evidence is still very visible. And perceived. 

Isaac is covered in hickeys, his lower lip cut in three places from the fang bites. His clothing covers all the bruises he has accumulated. Different sizes and shades. Whose hands did what and when, he doesn't recall.  

Scott's faring no better. His back is covered in claw marks which sting to no end. His groin throbs as does his bottom. The utter exhaustion permeating his being is something that he hasn't felt since he was human. 

Stiles is in the worst shape. Covered in hickeys like a leopard, his neck is almost one dark purple stain. His chest looks like a chessboard, scratch upon scratch looping around to his shoulders. His lower extremities still tremble and the throbbing from his ass reminds him of when he lost his virginity only a short time ago.  

No wonder Coach doesn't know what to say. 

Indeed, he walks away and disappears into his office.  

"What happened to you guys, you look like shit?" Danny asks, though the signs are self-explanatory. 

Stiles blushes deeply, toying with his cracked lip. "Long story, dude. Long story. We don't even know." 

Scott nudges Isaac. "Why aren't we healing? Are you still sore, too?" 

Two blue saucers dart from him to Stiles. "Guys, I can barely sit or walk. I'm fucking destroyed," he whispers. "No thanks to your fiance's huge fucking cock, Stiles. Holy Christ no wonder you walked funny last week."  

Danny's shock can be read in his gaping mouth.  

"You didn't have to dp him and Scott, scarf boy. That might have been taking on more than you can handle!" Stiles spits. 

"What?!" Danny interjects. 

Scott's mind is being flooded with erotic images and his cock starts to harden.  

"Guys..." Scott whispers, more to himself. He's trying to tame the beast. 

"I guess you sucking my monster cock off wasn't too much for your huge mouth to handle, Stilinski," Isaac replies.  

Danny stands, checking to see if Coach is still in his office. 

"Did all of you have an orgy?! What the fuck?!" 

In that precise moment Coach returns. His face is sullen. He hands each of the boys a pamphlet.  

Stiles sighs. Another pamphlet. 

"I don't even know what to say to you boys. Read this pamphlet. Reflect. Meditate. I'm going to discuss this with you tomorrow because otherwise I may say something I might regret.* 

**How Having Too Much Sex Can Kill You**

Stiles raises his hand. "Coach, do you just print these off in your office? Honestly like -" 

The other boys giggle as Finstock leans in, his nose almost touching Stiles'. 

"Stilinski, I am this close to kicking you all off the team. I would watch what your next words are going to be." 

The brunette holds in a laugh, fingering the cheap paper. 

Bobby steps back, hands on his hips. 

"Reflect, gentleman. Reflect. Think about what you are doing to yourselves...and to Coach. We shall discuss this compelling reading tomorrow. Dismissed." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all know it's coming. The sleepover chapter. The orgy chapter. Thanks, Peter. 
> 
> Thanks for your patience during my vacation. I'll be up and running again on Sunday.


	17. The Orgy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quite simply... the orgy. Stiles, Derek, Scott and Isaac fall under the spell of Peter Hale's potion and basically wreck each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut. 4 boys fuck. Enjoy.

Melissa McCall is almost at the door. She’s donning her pink scrubs and her long, black hair is pulled back into a ponytail. As usual, she’s a little bit frazzled. As she pulls on her coat, she pats the pockets.  
Stiles, Isaac, and Scott stand in the darkened hallway, fidgeting. Scott hides something in his palm while Isaac caresses his arm behind their backs. Stiles is restless, swaying from left to right.  
“What are you boys up to tonight?” She can’t find her keys as she manically rifles through her bag.  
Scott knows. This always happens. He walks over, a pair he hides looped into his index finger.  
“Just going to hang out. Derek is coming over. Here are your keys, Mom.”  
She sighs in relief, an inquisitive look in her eyes as she reaches for them.  
“Thank you, sweetheart. What would I do without you?” She cups his cheek with her palm. “Derek? Really? Isn’t he a bit old for a slumber party?”  
  
Scott pulls back, feigning offense.  “We’re not middle school girls, Mom. This isn’t a slumber party.”  
Melissa glances over Scott’s shoulder and smiles with just a hint of sarcasm. “I see three boys in pjs who are about to Netflix and eat pizza. This is a slumber party.”  
Scott and the others chuckle. “Derek is with Stiles now, Mom. That’s why he’s coming over. It’s a long story.”  
Melissa grins, one hand on the door handle. She had no idea that Derek Hale had a thing for Stiles.  
  
“Congratulations, Stiles. It’s nice that you have someone. Maybe you’’ll bring Scott here some luck, he’s been so lonely lately.”  
Stiles bites his tongue, throwing Isaac a knowing side glance. The tall boy is blushing and Scott doesn’t dare turn around lest he give his emotions away.  
“Thanks, Melissa. It all kind of happened so fast. If you run into my Dad, I’m sure he’ll be happy to tell you all about it.”  
She makes for the porch, already late for work. “I’m sure it’s a riveting story, Stiles. It always is with you boys. Never a dull moment.”  
  
She addresses her son before leaving. “Scott, I think 4 people here tonight is plenty so no wild parties, okay? I left you money so you can order out and …I was almost forgetting. A package came for you a couple hours ago. It’s a box of cider. There was a note attached, no envelope. Said congrats and enjoy, Love Coach. Something to that effect. You’ll see it, I left the box on the counter and put the cider in the fridge. I normally don’t condone drinking but you werewolves can’t get drunk so… Stiles, go easy on it, okay? Don’t want Noah upset at me because I aided in getting you drunk. Just because you boys won the tournament, okay? Though when I see Bobby next time I will ask why he sent alcohol to his students. Anyway… Shit, I have to go. Gonna be late. Love you, Scott. Have a good evening, boys, behave.”  
  
Scott blows a kiss and calls after her as she exits. “I love you, too, Mom!”  
When the door closes Scott flattens his back against it and exhales audibly.  
“Shit, eventually she'll catch us, Ise.”  
Isaac agrees, curls falling gently into his face as he nods. “Maybe we should just tell her? I mean…we do all live together.”  
Stiles heads towards the kitchen, scratching the back of his head. “I wanna be there for that conversation. ‘Mom, I’m sleeping with our houseguest while you work nights. Just wanted to give you a heads up in case you come home early and hear moaning.’ Melissa is gonna love that.”  
Scott follows him, curling his hand into Isaac’s. His eyes darken a moment. “Perhaps it can wait.”  
  
Stiles spies the box on the counter and examines it. “Why would Coach send us booze? Isn’t that a bit weird?”  
Scott retrieves it from Stiles and reads the note. “It says here it’s artisanal. He makes it himself. That’s why there’s no label. I guess he wanted to congratulate us somehow. He looked pretty elated when we left.”  
Stiles derives such pleasure from mocking him. “Elated. More SAT prep, Scottie boy?”  
The Alpha sticks his tongue out. “I’m not as dumb as you think, Stiles.”  
  
Isaac snorts from laughter, kissing his boyfriend’s pert lips. “Don’t pay attention to him, he’s just being an asshole. Which is one of his many talents. So when is my father getting here?”  
Stiles fake gags in response. “Jesus, please don’t say that.”  
The beta winks. “Prefer I say Daddy? Or is that _your_ thing?”  
Stiles scoffs, rolling up a sleeve. “Okay, scarf boy…now that’s really…”  
Scott intercedes, unimpressed by their continuous feuding. “Guys…guys. Stop it. When _is_ Derek getting here? I want to try one of these ciders but it’d be rude to start without him.”  
Stiles checks his watch and is on the verge of replying when the doorbell rings. “Well I’ll be damned. It’s him. I’ll get it.”  
  
Scott and Isaac pull four bottles from the fridge and Isaac grabs some takeaway menus. “What do you feel like? Pizza? Mexican? Thai?”  
Scott grabs his boyfriend's smooth chin with two fingers. “You.”  
Isaac smiles against the kiss, opening his mouth to let Scott’s tongue in.  
“You two are gross!” Stiles screams from the hallway, imagining what they are doing.  
  
When he gets to the foyer, Stiles flings opens the door, his gorgeous fiance on the step holding a bag in the crook of his arm. He's stunning as usual.   
“Baby, hey…” Stiles pulls on the front of his v-neck, beckoning him inside. Derek immediately presses into him and the Alpha growls softly.  
“Mmm, I missed you, angel,” he breathes against him once they break their kiss. His gorgeous green eyes shine.  
“Me too, Der. Jesus I’ve been so hot for you all day,” the brunette whispers.  
The wolf is beaming, his seductive grin plastered on his beautiful face. “If we get a little time away I’ve got something in the car for you.”  
“Oh really?” Stiles smirks, pulling down his pajama pants in the front. “Better than this?”  
Red lace is bright against Stiles’ creamy skin. His hard dick is trapped inside them.  
“You’re wearing the panties?” Derek’s cock stiffens at the sight. Stiles could not get any sexier.  
Stiles nods. “I figure eventually they’ll go do what we want to do, too. I thought I’d surprise you.”  
Derek throws his jacket onto the chair and kisses his boy's inviting neck.  
“You have. I can’t wait to tear them from you. Then I’ll buy you another pair, don’t worry.” The Alpha winks.  
“Hot," Stiles admits.   
  
“What’s hot? Hey Derek,” Scott greets him from the kitchen, waving menus. “What d’ya guys want? Pizza? Mexican? Thai?”  
Stiles stammers. “Nothing. Nothing is hot. Um… come on, let’s order. I’m starving. Pizza okay with everyone?”

The boys decide that pizza sounds amazing and 40 minutes later they are well into second and third pieces. They are down one cider each.  
Derek holds the empty bottle up to the light, turning it in his hand. He finds it strange that there’s no label.  
“Where’d this come from? How come it’s bare? It’s good, though.” He smacks his perfect lips.  
Stiles, knees hooked into Derek’s powerful legs, finishes his off with one long sip.  
“Coach made it. Sent Scott a box. Guess it’s a celebratory thank you or something.”  
  
Isaac, half a piece of pizza hanging from the corner of his mouth, mumbles “It is good. Anyone want another? There were 8.”  
Scott pats Isaac’s knee. “Stay here. I’ll get them. Derek, you want another? Stiles?”  
Derek nods and Stiles gives a thumbs up. “I know you all can’t get drunk but I’m starting to feel something. I’m such a lightweight.”  
Scott chuckles, rising to his feet. When he does, blood rushes to his head. He reaches out for balance, catching Isaac’s shoulder. “Woah. What the fuck… “  
Concern takes over all the boys’ faces. “Scott, what’s wrong?” Stiles asks.  
The Alpha touches his forehead with two shaky fingers. “Dunno, it’s weird. I feel dizzy. Is it getting hot in here? Anyone else hot?”  
Now that Scott has called their attention to it, the others realize they do feel warm. Derek’s cheeks are rosy and Stiles has begun visibly perspiring.    
“I’d say you were coming down with something but none of you can get sick. This is really weird, guys,” Stiles muses. “I suddenly feel like I’m burning up, too.”  
  
Heat doesn’t seem to be the only symptom. Derek’s eyebrows cross and his gaze drops low. He points to Scott’s crotch with a long finger. “Scott, you’re… um…. “  
An evident bulge has formed in his sweatpants. Stiles can’t stop looking at it until Isaac puts a pillow in front of it. “Dude, you’ve got a boner!” he yells.  
Scott isn’t dead. “Yeah, I can feel it Isaac. Thanks.” He grips the pillow to himself timidly.  
  
There’s a moment of silence until the remaining men slowly peer onto their own groins. All of them have followed suit and are growing hard.  
“Oh shit,” Isaac utters. “What was in this cider, Viagra?”  
Looking like a line of footballers waiting for a penalty kick, their hands crossed over their dicks, Derek speaks up.  
“If it’s something in the cider, guys, I wouldn’t drink any more. Unless the pizza place laced the pie with something.”  
  
Scott sinks back onto the sofa. His eyes are shiny, golden skin scalding to the touch.  
“It’s not a bad sensation. Dreamy. Warm.”  
Isaac stares at him, eyes saucered. “What? You okay? What are you talking about?”  
"My dick...it's so warm. It's like I'm floating."  
Scott seems to be the first to be experiencing things, also because he was the one to finish his drink quickly.  
The Alpha giggles, head dropped to the side. Whatever was in the cider is rapidly taking effect.  
“Isaac, have you ever noticed how cute Stiles is?” Scott is slurring his words. He bats his lashes at his best friend.  
Derek stifles a laugh himself, now he also is feeling woozy. “He is, isn’t he?” A hand messes Stiles’ chestnut hair.  
Isaac, peachy glow illuminating his face, crawls down to the floor and kneels.  
“Stiles… can I see your cock?”

 **Several hours later**  
  
It’s not that Isaac’s dick doesn’t fit nicely down Stiles’ throat, it does. It’s just extremely difficult to focus on gauging suction when his ass is being rammed by his best friend. Scott is in to the hilt, Stiles clenching around the engorged base as his groans vibrate on scarf boy’s tasty shaft.  
“Mmm Stiles… shit…” Isaac licks the blood from his broken lip. Earlier, when Derek was fucking him against the wall, his fangs accidentally nicked his mouth.  
Scott has also bitten into his, hissing as Derek’s claws leave a trail. Long, crimson lines cover his broad chest, Derek draped over the other Alpha like a blanket. His tongue licks a dark circle into Scott’s gilded skin. The more he buries himself, the stronger he bites. The older Alpha is mining Scott’s cavity with a vengeance.  
“Harder, Der…fuck. Harder,” Scott grunts, seeking more.  
  
The black-haired beauty obliges, increasing the force and speed of his drilling.  
“Scott, your ass feels amazing,” Derek breathes between frantic thrusts. The two have unconsciously coordinated their movements so when Derek pushes in, the Alpha ravages Stiles a second later. They don’t need a drummer to keep up this rhythm. _Thrust grunt thrust. Thrust grunt thrust._  
Isaac observes it all through half-lidded eyes, caressing Stiles’ soft locks as he guides his movements. He whimpers expletives when the boy deepens, his cock head beating against the brunette’s tonsils. Another orgasm builds in his tight belly. He’s lost count of how many times he’s cum already.  
“Stiles, ugh…baby. Feels so good,” he melts below the boy’s expert tongue.  
  
The room is ripe with the scent of musk, sweat, and cum. Clothes are strewn about, discarded without regard for practicality hours before.  
Who kissed whom, no one remembers. Isaac was the one who knelt before Stiles, begging him to show him his privates. The shock came when the brunette obeyed, revealing a pair of red lace panties beneath his clothing. Eyes lit up, cocks came out. Scott enjoyed licking his erection over the fabric until the moment Stiles pleaded with him to suck it properly.  
He then extracted it from the lacy cocoon, and Scott and Derek buried their faces in the brunette’s damp crotch.  
Scott licked the length and Derek sucked on Stiles’ heavy balls. They took turns swallowing the cock whole and all the while Isaac stripped down, touching himself.  
After painting his chest with jizz, he positioned himself at Stiles’ feet, on each side of the Alphas, and generously stroked both Scott and Derek. The subservient beta alternated closing his lips around each man’s glans, pulling up on their foreskins as he did so. Scott exploded all over his waiting fist with a low growl stuck in his gullet. Shortly after, light curls teasing against Derek’s massive thigh, Isaac drank down the other Alpha’s thick, warm seed.  
All four men then shared sloppy, open-mouthed kisses that tasted of semen and cider. Tongues twisted and fangs left deep marks in otherwise uncontaminated flesh.  
  
It’s Stiles who now gulps, Isaac a trembling mess in the armchair below. Stiles grasps his large hands, lacing his fingers with the beta’s. The orgasm shakes through the wolf, the cream shooting straight down the brunette’s battered throat.  
As soon as Stiles has unlatched, mouth wet and swollen from the effort, his friend pounces to return the favor.  
“Fuck yeah, Isaac,” the boy yelps when he feels the welcome heat.  
Isaac spits into his palm, stroking from bottom to top. Stiles elongates in his grip, the pre-cum briny against his taste buds.  
Derek and Scott continue their train. The Alphas are close, Derek’s back muscles straining, flexing and contracting as he wraps his arms around Scott. His panting is furious and when he shoots his load, “Oh fuck,” grunted into dewy flesh, the sudden fieriness pushes the other Alpha over the edge. Scott spurts his release into Stiles, sucking an enormous hickey into the side of his neck as he comes. Stiles is peppered with black and blue marks.  
  
The lust in the air is inebriating and all the men are insatiable. As soon as they finish, their erections painfully turgid, Scott and Derek study Isaac’s backside. His ass, with its perfect round cheeks, is too inviting to pass up. Scott gets a devious idea and whispers something in Derek’s ear. The wolf’s eyes flash red and he nods in agreement, licking his pouty lips in anticipation.  
“Ise, babe…” Scott tries to get his attention. “Babe… “  
Isaac half turns, chin wet with spit. Stiles opens one eye, missing the attention he was getting.  
“Wha?” he mumbles, kitten licking Stiles’ slit as he poises the tip to his lips.  
  
Scott leans down, two fingers circling Isaac’s hole.  
“Ise… Derek and I want to fuck you. _At the same time_.”  
The beta grins, azure eyes ablaze. “Shit yeah. Go for it.” He raises his bottom like an offering and spreads his legs as he pushes back down on Stiles’ crotch.  
“So hot,” Stiles comes undone. “Faster, Isaac… “  
  
Unaware of what he’s in for, (both Derek and Scott are very large), he busies himself with servicing Stiles and leaves the prep to the Alphas. Scott is attentive enough to realize this will require some lube and a bit of geometry. He feels around on the carpet for the tube that had been thrown to the side earlier.  
“Got it!” he lifts it like a trophy.  
“Fuck me,” Stiles whines. “Shit you’re good.” Isaac’s head bobs up and down, his mouth making a slurping noise.  
  
“Hurry,” Derek encourages, stroking himself.  
The Alpha covers his cock in the slick substance, offering some to the older man.  
“Why don’t you put it on me?” Derek suggests with a smirk, nudging his handsome erection into Scott’s palm.  
“Gladly,” the boy replies, coating his friend’s flush, needy member. He squeezes the wide muscle as he massages it in, until he reaches the top.  
“Mmm,” Derek laments. “After we get done fucking him I want to do you again, Scott.”  
Scott angles his head and pulls on the Alpha’s lower lip. “So hot…”  
Distracted, they kiss briefly before Scott remembers what he was about to do.  
“Now for your gorgeous asshole, Ise.” Seconds later a stream of gel falls into Isaac’s cleft, the cool sensation pleasant against his already throbbing hole.  
  
Scott lays down, sliding under Isaac. “You’re bigger, Der. You go in from the top, standing.”  
Stiles is so turned on by the scene he almost cums. He watches as Derek lines up his cock and penetrates. The ring stretches around his impressive girth and Isaac bucks, backing into it.  
“Oh fuck,” he moans. “So tight.”  
Derek fights the urge to move, telling Scott to go. “I’m in. Now you try. It’s gonna be snug.”  
Scott’s dick is less thick, though so hard that it’s rather easy to insist. Derek helps him aim, using his right hand to open the beta further. It takes a little patience but Scott finally makes it work.  
The feel of two dicks in his ass makes Isaac whimper in need. “Oh Jesus this feels amazing… please move ….please…” he begs them. “Fuck me.”  
When Derek bottoms out, Scott pulls in the opposite direction. Their skins drag against each other, the burn and the fit irresistible. What ensues is a perfect balance between power and controlled passion.  
Scott occupies himself with working Isaac’s shaft as Stiles nears his breaking point.  
“Oh god oh god Isaac,” Stiles’ cute little nose scrunches up as his dick twitches. White splotches cover Isaac’s face, contorted in pleasure from what’s happening behind him.  
“Fuckfuckfuck,” is the litany heard from the beta’s lips amidst the two Alpha’s laments.  
Stiles props himself up to get a better view, his dick still needy and shiny against his tummy.  
“Oh holy god this is hot,” he manages.  
It’s a few minutes of kneading tight flesh, hands roaming over grooves and bone. The silence is filled with growling and moaning, the sound of slapping skin and squishy secretions competing with labored breathing. All that stops when two Alphas howl in utter delectation, their release so profuse it covers the back of Isaac’s thighs in sticky rivers as it seeps out of his pucker.  
Isaac busts onto Scott’s sculpted stomach with a low grumble, and Stiles manages to not blind himself with a projectile jet as he orgasms again from watching his mate disintegrate inside Isaac.  
  
Whatever substance Peter put in the cider, its effects are not quick to fade. Shortly after, the men are piled on the living room rug. Stiles is licking cum off of Scott’s abs and Derek is fingering him and the Alpha, Isaac lazily jerking off as he recuperates his strength. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be updating the other waiting fics as well. I apologize for the delay but life happened. This has taken forever to write and I do apologize. But here it is. Not totally happy with it but I had a major writer's block issue with this chapter so I have to publish it. I still hope you enjoy it.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope it was okay, I normally write other ships but I love these boys so much.  
> Drop kudos and comments! I'll love you for it.


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